


Heart and Soul

by Sluah, slugette



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sluah/pseuds/Sluah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugette/pseuds/slugette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Edmond Trevelyan arrived at the Skyhold with an army bearing the orders from the Chantry to assist the inquisition, or to seize Skyhold by force and bring them the head of the elf who'd pose as the Herald of Andraste.  Osiris Lavellan, a Dalish elf newly titled the inquisitor, found the noble shem a reluctant ally at first, even despising his arrogant manners. What they didn't realise was, as their lives entwine throughout the events of the threat larger than themselves, they become each others heart and soul.   </p>
<p>A series of drabbles posted on our Tumblr about our OC ship in chronological order.<br/>Follow us on Tumblr: <a href="http://slugette.tumblr.com">Slugette</a> and <a href="http://sluah.tumblr.com">Sluah</a></p>
<p>It is still on-going, and being updated semi-regularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Backstories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories from the past, before the inquisition started. (You may skip to Chapter 2, if you want to get on with the main storyline.)

 

**Osiris Lavellan Backstory** (written by Slugette)

The best day of his life, he recalled, was when beautiful Bellanaris told him that she loved him. He remembered her flushed cheeks peppered with perfect amount of freckles, and her soft blond hair shifting in the breeze when she watched him with her impossibly big hazel eyes.  He was only a youth of 18 years, still free of Vallaslin. She was the clan’s best hunter a few years his senior, an archer with the marks of June on her fair face.

It was a perfect summer’s morning, two years later, when Bella told Osiris she was with his child.  With her parents blessing, they married under a oak tree.

A month before Osiris was to receive his Vallaslin, he was told of the Conclave, and that the clan wished him to go, and be a bodyguard to the second to the keeper, as he was one of the best young warriors the clan had.  He told the keeper that he would not leave his wife, soon to give birth to a child. The keeper understood, and said he could stay.

Bella had another idea. She was fascinated by the shems, and wished they knew more about them, and to be friends.  When the shems are concerned, Osiris, of course, has an entirely different idea, but he loved this about Bella; Loving and trusting seemed to come easy for her. She told him that she’d have loved to go to the conclave herself, but alas her belly was swollen.

“Let’s go hiking, alone. Just you and me!” Bella suggested one day not long after, “If I can’t go to the Conclave, I’d like to at least have a little adventure before I get too busy with a babe.”

“Ma vhenan, you’re in no condition to go anywhere. Not with that fat belly.” Osiris said with a cheeky grin, which was rewarded with a hard punch to his arm.  “Ouch!” He shouted, wincing rather theatrically.

Bella’s mouth twitched as she tried hard to keep her face straight. “I’m serious! It could be our last chance to be alone together!” She huffed.   

Osiris had many conversations like this with her, and knew there was to be only one answer.

“As you wish, ma vhenan.” He said with a smile.

So they went on a little trip. They took a horse for her, with him on foot, and about a week’s supplies. At his insistence they’d even gotten the clan’s healer to see her the day before, who’d given her an okay to travel and only asking for her to take extra care. As for their destination, they chose a perfect place by a little waterfall, because they knew the area was safe from bandits or wild animals.   

Early afternoon, only a couple of days into the trip, Bella shouted from atop the horse, her hands clutching at her belly.  Osiris took her from the saddle, concerned. Her face was ashen, cold to the touch. “I’ve.. had cramps.. since this morning. I thought it was indigestion.” She said, her breathing becoming shallow and her eyes full of tears. “I think.. the baby is coming.”

Osiris laid out a blanket on the side of the path, and sat her against a tree. He cursed, as he did not know what to do. “We must go back,” he said.

“No, I can’t, “ she said. For hours, she writhed and moaned in pain. Osiris held her hand, feeling utterly helpless, for there was nothing he could do.

The few hours after were like a nightmare.  She screamed as she pushed. There was so much blood, mixed with something sticky and black.  His eyes were blurry with tears, but he helped the best he could.  When the baby finally came out, it did not breathe nor did it cry.  Bella held the body of the baby in her arms, shaking from exhaustion. She sobbed quietly, and pushed him away when he touched her shoulder.

The night came, and Osiris heard the sound the wolves. Too close. They must have caught the scent of the blood.  He took his sword and left the side of his love, who was still clutching the body of the baby while fighting a fever.

When the wolves came, he fought like a demon. One went down, two, three, and the rest backed off.  He didn’t care about the dozens of wounds he received.  When he finally ran back to her side, she whispered, “I wish to join the baby to the journey to the Beyond.”

“No, ma vhenan. You can make it.” He said knowing that it was not true, wiping sweat from her brow hot with fever. “I will take you home, and we’ll be ok.” He held her until she passed away, his weary blood-shot eyes on the wolves that still circled.

When he returned to the clan, the horse carried two bodies. After he buried them, he told the clan he would be ready for his Vallaslin, of that of Fallon’Din, who took his love and his babe safely to the journey Beyond.  He told the clan that he would go to the Conclave if they still needed him, because that was what his love wished. There was only one answer when his love wanted something.

“As you wish, my vehnan,” he told her grave, tears streaming down his face - now marked by Falon’Din.

 

**Edmond Trevelyan Backstory** (written by Sluah)

Lord Edmond Trevelyan moved uncomfortably on his chair. How long was this meeting going to last? It was already going on for more than three hours. He nodded without paying attention and the Grand Cleric took it as a sign she could express her opinion on the war for a third time.

The Ostwick Knight Commander was clearly as bored as Lord Trevelyan and as soon as the Grand Cleric paused for breath be caught a chance “Our point, Messere, is that you are harbouring illegal mages. Those Apostates are…”

“I am not harbouring illegal mages, Knight Commander” the younger brother of the Teyrn of Ostwick interrupted. His voice was calm and paused but it was starting to transpire the irritation that was boiling inside him. “I offered shelter to those who had nowhere to go when you let the Circle fall”. Being his brother’s heir and Ostwick’s military general made Lord Edmond unused to being criticised; and the Trevelyan’s wealth and influence among the chantry made him used to being venerated.

The Knight Commander breathed slowly and forced a smile as he measured Lord Trevelyan. “Surely your Lordship remembers how we lost control of the Circle…”

When news of Kirkwall’s mage revolt reached Ostwick, Lord Edmond took two units of Ostwick’s finest and marched to the circle. He did not bother to ask nicely, he demanded his daughter to be release from the circle under his custody. Right that minute. He would not wait until the war reached Ostwick. The Circle was to deliver young lady Lenore to him or the soldiers would storm the tower and take her away.

Of course he couldn’t do that. Of course he had no authority. Of course it was an affront to the chantry and to the templar order. But as everywhere and Thedas, and specially in the Free Marches, money and soldiers allow a lot of things. So the father took his little girl home, the templars were insulted and the chantry ordered everyone to pretend nothing happened. The Trevelyan’s level of influence on the chantry was almost heretical.

And as the teenage mage was release and returned to her life of privilege, the templars lost face and the rest of the mages started to question their shackles.

The two man stared at each other with half smiles on their faces, but before they could say another word, the Grand Cleric continued “what’s important now is the Conclave. It’s a chance for peace, called out by the Divine Herself. It’s to the conclave we must turn our attention now. And that’s what brought us here, Messere Trevelyan. The chantry needs the support and protection of your Lordship and the army.”

Slowly, Lord Edmond turned his eyes from the templar to the Grand Cleric and his voice soften. “I am The Most Holy’s humble servant, but I am also the shield of Ostwick. The Teyrn already commanded a third of the army to accompany you, there is no need for one more man”.

He rose from this throne-like chair and so did the Knight Commander and the grand Cleric. “But please, stay with us tonight, the hour is far too late to be travelling. You and your men are our guests”.

He left the grand hall with fast steps, the two soldiers at the door opened it wide for their general to pass, and he didn’t bother to look again to his guests. His wife would accommodate them now, she would be very happy to do so. Since some of the runaway mages, his daughter’s circle friends, had began to ask for sanctuary in his house, Lady Trevelyan had been unease. As a good Andrastrian, she knew magic to be impure and corrupt; she had even shunned away their daughter since her magic revealed itself and Edmond doubted the two of them have shared two nice words since Lenore was back from the circle.

It was already late, but he couldn’t go to bed without visiting his small chapel. He kneeled, as he did every night since as long as he could remember, in front of Andrastes’s statue and he prayed. He prayed for common things: for his brother’s long life, for Ostwick’s prosperity, for his only daughter’s health and happiness and for a son… that was not a mage. Then he recited the chant of light and got up.

His wife was standing at the chapel door waiting for him. “My Lady”, he said casually as he passed her.

“My Lord”, she said, “I’ve spoken with the Grand Cleric. She says Andraste calls on you to do Her work”.

“Nothing so grand, my Lady”, he replied, “the chantry requires an escort. The Grand Cleric wanted me to go with them too, but there is no need; I can appoint a worthy Captain to lead them”.

“We are all tools of the Maker, husband, it is not for us to decide how to be used”, Lady Tevelyan replied.

“Of course”. It was very late and he was tired. Even the sword on his waist was weighting a bit more than usual.

But his wife did not move. “And I’ve talked to the Knight Commander. He fears magic is ruling man. I fear it too”.

Edmond stopped half across the corridor and turned to his wife, unsure what she meant. “She is already commanding our servants. She is your only heir, Ostwick’s heir, she will rule”. Edmond opened his mouth to speak but Lady Trevelyan continued “I allowed the templars to take all the mages away. I removed the right of sanctuary”.

Had she been any other person, Edmond would have strike down her where she stood. His guests, his orders, his manor. His daughter. Without a word he turned and run to his daughter chamber, his wife following, calling out to him.

Her bedroom door was already opened, warm lights shining inside. Edmond entered holding sword and hilt. Would he strike down a templar doing his duty? A templar trying to take away his little girl? Yes he would, without hesitation.

But he froze as soon as he step inside the room. A big fiery like creature was in front of the bed, between the templar and Lenore who was hugging her knees and crying.

As the templar charged to the demon, Edmond ran to his daughter to take away from danger. She was in her night gowns, she was probably sleeping when the templar came. And her left wrist was bleeding. He pulled her on her feet as the templar screamed “She summoned it, my Lord”, “she summoned it when I tried to take her”.

When Edmond and Lenore reached the door, Lady Trevelyan was already there, eyes opened wide looking at the demon. “Maleficar”, she muted. “Maker saves us”. He pushed his daughter out and grabbed his wife’s arm “Take Lenore and run, I’ll help take down that beast.”.

But his wife stared at him “She summoned it, I heard what the templar said! She’s a maleficar!”.

“She’s our daughter!!” screamed Edmond losing his temper for the first time in years.

“She’s no daughter of mine.” spat Lady Trevelyan and she started to scream for help.

Edmond grabbed her by the arms and shook her violently. “They’ll kill her, they’ll make her tranquil!”.

“She’s better off dead! Andraste said…” But she never finished what Andraste said. Edmond sword went through her as he muted quietly “fuck Andraste”.

Lenore screamed and cowed against the wall. “Hide your arm!” her father barked. He turned to the templar and cut him down.

Then he screamed for his guards and for the templars while we was holding off the demon long enough for it to be seen.

With the help of the soldiers and templars, the demon was easily defeated. Edmond help his daughter up and hold her close. “It’s over, love.”, he caressed her hair, “did you see which one was it?”

Lenore was still shaking uncontrollably looking at her mother’s dead body and was only able to mutter an almost soundless “what?…”

“One of those mages you let loose is a Maleficar!” Edmond snapped angrily at the Knight Commander. “That templar, Andraste guide him to the Maker, was protecting my wife and daughter from the demon. But when I got here, the demon took control of his mind to make us fight each other. He killed my wife … and I killed him.”

Everyone was silent. The Knight Commander was looking Lord Edmond suspiciously but said nothing. “Take those mages from my house and find out which one of them did it!”.

The next day, Lord Edmond accepted to command the Ostwick’s troops heading to the conclave. His family needed to be in the Chantry’s good side while this maleficar business was investigated.

 

* * *

 

**Unhappy Marriage** (written by Sluah)

Young Edmond Trevelyan was petrified in front of the mirror, staring beyond his own reflexion, while three of the best Free Marchen tailors finished dressing him. He refused to be nervous. He had no reason to be, he was the youngest commander in Ostwick’s history, he had advised his first victory at the age of sixteen, he was the General’s right hand, he was already an accomplished warrior, he was the son of Teryn Baelor Trevelyan, he…

Before he could tell himself more reasons why he shouldn’t be nervous in his own wedding, a voice called him back from his thoughts.

“The Teryn asks if he is ready”. Edmond looked to his older brother through the mirror. Five years his senior, Tristan was a head shorter than he was and much less athletic, but it would be a lie to say he was a worse warrior.

Despite their close age and the fact that they were both warriors, the two young lords shared no brotherly affection for one another. On the contrary, their rivalry was one of the favourite gossip themes of the Court and some noble lords feared that it might divide the realm in years to come. What would happen to the army if there were soldiers loyal to Lord Tristan and soldiers loyal to Lord Edmond?

Teryn Baelor, however, didn’t seemed at all concerned by his sons rivalry; in fact he always instigated a permanent competition between the two, switching from favourite son according to the successes of the young men.

“Almost ready, Messere”, answered one of the tailors bowing as low as he could.   


“Good” answered the heir to the throne of Ostwick, “everyone’s waiting.” Lord Tristan smiled sarcastically to his brother before stepping out of the door. “I have to say, brother, your wife to be is an unattractive as you deserve. But stop stalling, Father is waiting!”.

Edmond looked at his own reflection once more. He had decided to be married in the formal military outfit, which had been, of course, specially tailored and adorned for the marriage of the Teryn’s son. Only one thing was missing. He placed his grandfather’s sword carefully on his waist and measured himself once again.

His late grandfather had been his hero, the Champion of Oswtick, who died defending their land at the age of sixty. Edmond was ten when he passed away and he had begged his grandfather not to go into battle, to let the younger man do the fighting. But his grandfather told him a man is never relieved from his duty or his honour and that until Ostwick had a new champion, that burden was his. But he promised his grandson that that was to be his last battle. He would come back and give Edmond his sword, passing on to him the bearing of defending Ostwick when he is of age.

He never returned from that battle and at that early age Edmond had to stand up to his father’s authority so that his grandfather’s will was done. That sword had been his strength ever since.

Edmond straighten his back and breathed deeply. He was going to do his duty, nothing to be worried about.

Less than an hour later, the groom entered the chantry with what could be considered a royal escort. For once, his Lord Father was not showing favouritism amongst his children. Edmond’s wedding was as  impressive as his brother’s had been.

His wife to be was not ugly as Tristan had said. She could in fact be considered attractive, was it not for her severe look and stoic manners. They exchanged vows in the presence of the Maker and behaved accordingly to their status during the festivities. Judging from the outside, they could even be considered a perfect couple, had it not been for the fact that they hadn’t exchanged more the two sentences to each other.

As the festivities ended, Edmond escorted his newly wedded wife into their bed chamber. He closed the door as soon as she entered and breathed deeply before looking at her. The new lady Trevelyan was already sitting on the bed and was beginning to unlace her wedding dress,

“Wait”, Edmond said as he sat next to her in the bed. This was the woman he was going to spend his life with, it felt wrong not to know her and just… consummate the marriage like that.

They stayed in silence for a while, and every time Edmond looked at her, Lady Trevelyan was with her eyes on the ground.

“Did you like the wedding?”, Edmond ventured.

“Yes”, she replied. And fell silent again.

“Are you uncomfortable?”, he asked tenderly.

“No, my Lord”, she said.

“I’m your husband, not your Lord. Please, it’s Edmond now”.

She didn’t reply. Edmond was starting to get uncomfortable himself.

“Tell about yourself”, he tried again

“What about, my Lo… Edmond?”

“I don’t know, whatever you like. Tell me a secret”, he smiled trying to soften the mood.

“I have no secrets”, she answered.

“Alright, tell me a wish”.

“I wish to give you many strong sons”, she replied.

“And we will have them, I’m sure”, Edmond tried once again, “but tell me something you want for yourself”.

“To be a good wife to you is my only wish”, she replied obediently.

Edmond wanted to sighed, but was able to stop himself.

“What did you like to do in Wycome?”, Edmond almost begged.

“I liked to sing the chant of light and pray to Andraste and the Maker”, she answered true to her role as one of the Divine Beatrix III’ nieces.

Edmond gave up. Finally, he got up and started unfastening his garments without any real rush. His wife undressed herself and lied down. She turned her head to the wall and closed her eyes, completely still, waiting to do her duty to her husband.

 

 

* * *

 

**Red Autumn** (written by Sluah)

The Autumn dusk was as red as the leaves falling from the trees that framed the Trevelyan Keep courtyard, when Benjamin crossed it with fast steps to remind young Lord Edmond it was time to get ready for dinner. The 7 year old was, of course, practicing the day’s lesson long after his sword master had gone home. By his side, barking and growling, waving his small tail eagerly, the young Lord’s mabari cub was eager to play with the training dummy too.

Benjamin looked at the bear like dog and sighed. He could swear the mabari had grown since he last laid eyes upon him right after lunch. Just three months ago, upon the Lord Teyrn’ visit to Ferelden, the old servant had been terrified to discover his young Master inside a mabari compound, already knee deep in mud, with drool dripping all over his embroidered coat. “Benjamin, look”, the young black haired child had called out laughing as a mabari pup, almost the boy’s size, chewed his belt to shreds, “this one likes me!”. The belt alone was worth more than Benjamin’s family earned in a year.

“Master Edmond”, Benjamin called out respectfully, “it is almost dinner time. I have prepared your bath”.

In a loud voice that already echoed with wisps of command, Edmond counted “1” and raised his guard, “2” as he placed his feet and shouted “3” as a battle cry while he swinged his practice sword. At the exact command, obeying his master’s reaction, the mabari hauled himself at the training dummy and clenched his teeth deep, shaking his head vigorously. “Oh not again…”,  thought old Benjamin as the large dog ripped the dummy from its support.

Lord Edmond cheered triumphantly. “Did you see that, Benjamin?”, the boy asked raising his young voice, his learned and imposed composure losing the battle against his excitement, as the rubbed the dog’s belly. “Good boy, Ragnar!!”

“Yes, it saw it,  Sire”, Benjamin answered trying not to roll his eyes, “your dog is ruining the keep… again”

“He is destroying our enemy!”, the boy corrected him, frowning, standing up and trying to look down his nose on his much taller servant.

“And what offense did your bedroom’s chair committed this morning?”

“That wasn’t Ragnar!”. Any other child would have sounded guilty or even try to offer a convincing lie, Edmond however, just stated it as a fact. He didn’t rush the words nor did he try to manipulate the events. His words ought to be enough. A trevelyan, no doubt.

“Of course not, my Lord. How silly of me!”

Young Lord Edmond had called his dog Ragnar, after his favourite Ostwick legend, and the two had become inseparable since the day Arl Eamon Guerrin of Redcliff had offered him to the  boy saying he believed the mabari had already imprinted himself on him. Whatever that meant anyway. For Benjamin, it meant twice the work and thrice the patience. Fereldens had no problem with their dogs anywhere in the house, however Benjamin had expected his little Lord to only bring a large dog to Ostwick, not the rustic ways of Ferelden. But no matter how many times the Lord Teyrn told his son that the dog could not enter the house, Benjamin always found him sleeping on the bed, next to his little master, on the morning.

A familiar but unexpected sound cut through the air in front of them as they were heading back. For a second, Benjamin was confused. But then Ragnar whimpered in pain and Edmond screamed.

The old servant turned his head to his young master and immediately froze where he stood, as the little boy fell on his knees, his yellow eyes wide and motionless staring at the arrow stuck deep into his puppy’s torso.

Benjamin was ready to cry out for the guards, but the call for help died in his throat. All he was able to voice was “step aside from the dog, Edmond”, as Lord Tristan, oldest son to the Teyrn and heir to Ostwick readied another arrow.

“You’ll be ok”, Edmond kept saying again and again as petted his dying friend, “you’ll be ok”.  The boy’s voice trembled and faltered, “Benjamin, please, please, help him”. He began to sob as he hugged Ragnar’s huge head while the dog, even though in clear agony as his caramel fur was painted red, licked his master’s tears.

“Maker! Shut up, brat!”. With deadly precision and disturbing calmness, the next Lord of Ostwick pulled back the string of his bow and loose another arrow that slashed deep across his young brother’s face, before silencing the mabari with one last loud whimp.

The courtyard became silent. Even the wind swirling the red leaves seemed to stop in anticipation.

“What’s for dinner?”, Tristan asked casually as he placed his bow over his shoulder.

Edmond slowly let go of his embrace on Ragnar, rose to his feet and turned to his brother. Any thoughts Benjamin had of rushing towards the child were lost, as two bright yellow eyes shone with a hatred no child should possess, in the midst the blood red mask that stained Edmond’s injured face.

And then something close to an animal’s growl erupted from the young boy’s throat. Edmond  ran to his brother and threw his small hands around his neck. “I hate you”, the child murmured as he tried to crush Tristan’s throat. Where or when Edmond had leaned such a thing, Benjamin was afraid to wonder.

Tristan parted his lips and widened his eyes in surprise, but his much larger hands quickly held Edmond’s small wrists and forced him to release his throat. Then he punched the already bleeding face of his younger brother hard, throwing him off his feet.

“Don’t you dare!”, the 13 year old Lord warned his servant the moment Benjamin was about to run and come between the brother’s fight, while he, casually, kicked Edmond’s stomach until the boy stopped moving.

Then, with the same calm attitude, Tristan wrapped his long fingers in his brother’s dark hair and dragged the boy across the courtyard, throwing him on top of the dog’s body.

“Leave them there”, he ordered old Benjamin.

“Sire, please…”, the man begged, “your brother. He is just…”

“I SAID leave them there”, repeated Tristan. “And you are dismissed”.

The red sky slowly turned darker, and night followed dusk as Benjamin bowed to his lord and left with tears running down his face. The carpet of red autumn leaves that covered the courtyard offered the comfort of a soft bed for the mabari blood drenched corpse and to the boy with the bloody face that lay motionless on top of him.


	2. From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of events that happen after they arrive in the Skyhold

**Mine** (written by sluah)

Inquisitor Osiris Lavellan walked with fast steps the long corridors of Skyhold, not paying attention to the low bows or the “your worship” whispers as he passed. Saying he was irritated was an understatement. It wasn’t enough that Ser Edmond Trevelyan started acting as if he owned the Inquisition, he now had the nerve to summon him to his chambers.

Osiris wasn’t unreasonable, he knew that the Trevelyan general had brought a large army and was a valuable ally. And even if he wanted to forget that, Josephine was constantly remembering him. “Lord Trevelyan is a very powerful man”, “Lord Trevelyan has a big army”, “Lord Trevelyan is adored by the Chantry and Court alike”. Lord Trevelyan this, Lord Trevelyan that. Osiris was really trying not to hate the man, but he seemed to be everywhere he turned; strolling around the battlements giving orders and opinions about his decisions.

Truth be told, they might have “started off with the wrong foot”, or whatever it is that humans like to say; Osiris always found human expressions curious. The Inquisition had just finished installing themselves in Skyhold when a small army camped at their door, bringing panic to the survivors of Haven. Messere Edmond Trevelyan, Heir to the Teyrn of Ostwick, General of its army, 2nd of the Ten Shields of the Free Marches… and a lot of other titles Osíris couldn’t remember, marched to the doors and demanded to be received by whoever it was that spoke for the Inquisition.

It was a very long conversation, seasoned by a mutual dislike and irritation, in the end of which Lord Trevelyan informed the Herald that the Chantry had asked him to take Skyhold by force and bring them the head of  "the elf that dared claim he speaks for Andraste"; but seeing as the newly appointed inquisitor seemed mildly competent, Lord Trevelyan would lend the Inquisition his troops instead.

As he reached Lord Edmond’s room, Osiris didn’t bother to knock , he pushed the door open, slamming it against the wall and snapped “ _You_  summoned  _me_?”. Lord Trevelyan was with his back turned to the door, staring through an open window at the snow outside, and didn’t seem the least startled by the Inquisitor’s outrage.

“Yes, I did”, responded Edmond in a calm voice, not paying attention to Lavellan’s tone. He turned to his guest “thank you for coming so quickly”.

In a table, in the middle of the room, was a exact replica of the war table, with the same marks and even a dagger stabbed in a strategical location.

Lord Edmond invited Osiris inside with a small gesture. As always, the man was the perfect representation of a highborn noble. His long black hair was loose, he wore a grey robe with black embroideries and a master work sword was hanging from his waist. But more than his appearance, it was his posture of superiority and air of utter arrogance that made Osiris Lavellan find Lord Trevelyan so aggravating.

The Inquisitor raised a curious eyebrow. “Why do you have a replica of the war table?”

“How else could I correct your silly strategy to take Griffon Wing Keep ?” Lord Edmond asked with a half amused smile. “ I was not invited to your war council.”

“Silly?”, asked Osiris trying to keep his anger in check, “Cullen, the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, has been planning this attack for a long time. I have complete trust in his decisions”.

“Forgive me, Lord Lavellan”, Edmond responded in his usual condescending tone, “I should have said Commander Cullen’s silly strategy and your lack of experience on the matter. I assume your worship never took a keep, or a fortress…”

There it was again. That tone. Osiris knew, of course, Lord Trevelyan was an experienced general and that his council on this matter could be useful, but he couldn’t force himself to accept it. Let alone ask for it.

“Well, lord Trevelyan, Commander Cullen takes into account the opinion of all his soldiers. Feel free to share your ideas with him.”, Osiris replied harshly.

“I would rather teach you how to rule your men”. There was no insulting tone or mockery this time, just a plain, direct statement. Maybe it was the honesty in which it was said or the way Lord Trevelyan was looking at him, but Osiris took it as offensive. He open his lips to reply, but he didn’t know what to say, so he turned away and headed for the door. All this courtly intrigue attitude made him very uncomfortable, what could he reply to someone insulting him with charming words? Cutting off his head would be a bit harsh.

But then, Edmond Trevelyan grabbed his arm. “Wait”, he said. Osiris was startled, he pulled his arm back violently. “I apologise”, continued Lord Edmond, his tone was softer.

“For insulting my Commander or for being patronizing?”

“For holding your arm and making you uncomfortable”, replied Lord Edmond, his smile wider.

Osiris sighed. “Look, I’ve had enough of your games. I know we can’t see eye to eye most of the times…” he stopped and grew annoyed as Lord Edmond raised an eyebrow and smiled amused. “Well, we can’t say two words to one another without starting a fight…” Osiris continued.

“I am sure I am not the only one who knows why”, interrupted Edmond and without another word, he held Osiris by the back of the neck and kissed him on the lips. It was a strong, possessive kiss and even though the Inquisitor did not return it, Edmond took a few seconds before pulling away.

Osiris needed some time to make sense of what just happened. “I am not a maiden that you can steal a kiss from”, said the elf looking the human in the eyes but without backing away. Edmond laughed “Indeed you are not. Should I apologise again?”

“No”.

They  clashed like two warriors in battle. Two predators fighting for dominium, they kissed violently and passionately, both grabbing and pulling each other closer. Fingers ran through hair, hands slide down the back. Both fighting for control, kissing and hugging more fiercely with each breath.

Edmond pressed Osiris against the wall, holding him still with his own body, and held his arms on top of his head. Their kisses grew even more furious and desperate. Osiris couldn’t move but he enjoyed the feeling of starting to lose the battle and when Edmond bite his throat deeply, the elf surrendered with a cry, in newly discovered feeling of pain and pleasure.

Osiris turned his head, gasping for air. “I…”, he said, “I am…”. Edmond gently hold the elf’s face to meet his gaze and looked him passionately and hungrily with his yellow wolfish eyes and said “Mine”.

 

* * *

 

**A new beginning** (written by Slugette)

  * _**Note:** This part was written in the first person POV, of Osiris, as a personal challenge. _



 

I did not like being in the war room. I was required there daily, to meet with my advisors, to make all kinds of decisions, big or small.

Like most days, I stood near the large wooden table shaped like the map of the southern Thedas, feeling small and insignificant.   

Once again, the shems, my advisors, had told me that yes, I would be the one to make the final decision, but no, my input would hardly be necessary because I had no prior experience in these matters.

It was true enough. There was no denying that. It was the sort of truth that hurt like a toothache, which became worse if I thought too hard about it.

What would a young Dalish elf like me know about the subtleties of Orlesian politics! But, it made me angry to think that I should be able to contribute, and that I should somehow come up with all the best solution for every fucking problem, because I was the Herald of Andraste. The divine fucking champion, the chosen of the Maker that I don’t even believe in!

What if this was all a mistake? I was a fraud, and I knew it.

Sudden silence brought me back to reality, and to my horror, every set of eyes were on me.

“W-what?” I stammered, my cheeks heating slightly.

“I said, I would like to hear your thoughts on this, your Worship, “ said Lord Edmond Trevelyan, one corner of his mouth turning up into a knowing smile.  

I cursed silently as I met with those wicked wolf eyes of the dark haired shem. The bastard must have noticed I wasn’t paying attention.

“I, umm, wasn’t sure if... my opinion was required... “ I fumbled, feeling the heat on my cheeks spread towards my ears. I felt the nails biting through the flesh of my palms as my hands clenched into fists. I wasn’t quite sure if I was more angry or embarrassed. Certainly both.

“On the contrary, your Worship, I would greatly value your… opinion, “ said Lord Trevelyan, his eyes darkening slightly, dipping down to linger over my lips. His tone sounded both like a challenge and an invitation. Terribly confused, I swallowed, remembering, of all things, the kiss we shared a few days ago.

Neither of us had said anything about that afterwards, and things between us resumed as normal, that is, a strictly professional level of mutual hatred. So, I was even beginning to think it hadn’t happened at all, that it was all in my imagination.   

We were in a stand off, our odd little staring contest, as I searched for the words that I did not have. I felt hot despite the cool air, and my throat suddenly dry. I had to say something but what? Then, Josephine came to the rescue.

“I have a suggestion, my lords, “ she smiled charmingly as she took everyone’s attention from me, thank the Creators,  “it is getting rather late and we still haven’t even begun to understand the matter. Let us rest for this evening and continue tomorrow.”

There was a collective sigh of relief and a few words of agreement, even from Commander Cullen, who had been looking bored, though he wouldn’t have admitted it. I mouthed a silent thank you towards my tactful ambassador, who left with a gracious smile and a small nod.

As for Lord Trevelyan, he was the last person in the room with me, which did not surprise me the least. Probably here to lecture me about the inner workings of Orlesian politics that I surely had missed, or maybe about the merits of staying focused. I sighed aloud.

“I know what you’re going to say, “ I began before he had to say anything, my voice gruff even to myself, full of resentment, “ you insist on teaching me these lessons, but I didn’t enjoy being put on a spot like that.”

“You presume much. I was simply curious about your thoughts, “ he said, completely nonchalant, “like I said, I value your opinion, “ He looked at me in the eyes and gave me a toothy smile before adding, “greatly.”

A thought occurred to me then, as I flinched away from his intense gaze. Was he flirting with me? I bit my lower lip, and tried not to think of that kiss. Nor the feel of being pressed onto the cold stones while his lips crashed onto mine. Nor his tongue entwining with my own, violently. Nor the light scrape of his teeth against my neck. I felt my trousers tighten as my blood rushed to my loins.

May the dread wolf take him.  

“Why did you do that?” I asked, unable to steer my thought away from that kiss.

“Do what?”

“The, umm, the kiss. When I saw you at your chamber. I always thought.. I thought that you hated me.”

That made Trevelyan laugh. Even his laughter was rather arrogant and wolfish. A couple of his long strides took him close enough for me feel his breath. He smelled like leather and metal, and a hint of citrus. It was oddly pleasant.

“Do not ask why when you already know the answer. A kiss simply meant a kiss, ” he said as he  lifted my chin with his thumb and the index finger, leaning in until our lips almost touched, his breath hot on my sensitive lips.

Did I know the answer? I simply held my breath, unable to think any coherent thoughts, while my heart attempted to thump out of my chest. I was sure he was going to kiss me again, but he just held me there, for what seemed like an eternity.

My lips parted in their own volition, and I lifted my heels to close the gap separating us, tilting my head for better access. I kissed him, my ardent tongue darting out to taste him, my lips pressing hard enough to bruise. If he was surprised at my eagerness, he didn’t show it at all, returning the kiss with equal passion.

His strong hands wrapped around me, pulling my body closer as our kiss deepened. The tightness on my groin was unbearable, and I seeked release by rubbing my hardness against the heat of his body, which I was acutely aware of even through several layers of clothing separating us.

Edmond growled as our lips came apart. He tore the scarf from my neck, swiftly throwing it away. His hand reached behind my head, and grabbed my ponytail, yanking it down until I was forced to expose the length of my neck. For a moment, I imagined him growing a sharp set of teeth and tearing a chunk of my flesh away. I would have to admit that horrible thought was strangely arousing.

I shivered, when he ran his tongue down the side of my neck, while his other hand stroked my hardened length through my trousers. He sucked and teased for a while, then without a warning, bit into my tender flesh. The sharpness of pain almost made me release all I had, so I moaned, louder than I should.

It took all of my willpower to remember that I was still in the war room. What if someone walked in?

“S-stop… I can’t,” I whispered, even though stopping was the last thing my body wanted. To his credit, Edmond released me immediately, and licked his lips.

“As you wish, your Worship,“ he said and stepped back, his predatory gaze still on me, hot and intense. His yellow eyes were like amber flame, burning with desire. I could also see his obvious arousal through where his robes parted, until he gathered his own attire back to its proper state. He inclined his head, and started to leave.

“W-wait!” I called out. How dare he just walk out, leaving me like this?  

“If you wish for my company, you know where to find me, “ said Edmond before slamming the door behind him.

May the dread wolf take him.  

As i gathered my wits, and wondered what came over me to behave in such a way, I realised how much I missed being touched like that. It felt like it’d been too long since…

The memories with her, making love to her, came back bitter and sweet. But this time, the thought of my beloved did not bring me comfort. Instead, I was tormented by all too familiar guilt, that came back whenever I allowed myself to feel any pleasure.

While I toiled and wallowed in my own inner turmoil, the heavy oppressive nature of the war room pushed its weight down upon my shoulders, suffocating me. I hated myself at that moment, for all I wanted was to have a kiss upon my lips, and the heat of another body pressed close against mine. Even if it’s with a big hairy shem with eyes like a wolf, who looked at me as if he wanted to devour me whole.

“Forgive me, Bella,” I whispered to myself, and felt even worse for how alien her name sounded from my lips.

But it was time to let it all go.   

I retrieved my scarf, carefully wrapped it back around my neck, and headed to Lord Trevelyan’s chamber.   

*****

Lord Trevelyan's chamber was rather spartan in its furnishing, but it was one of the largest and best cared rooms in Skyhold. Josephine had had it reserved for the highest ranking noble visitors, and it didn’t surprise me in the slightest that Edmond had somehow made it his own.

A large banner of Ostwick hung on the wall, and the weapon rack in the corner sported an impressive array of swords, their keen edges reflecting firelight. Several shields of different designs rested on the rack as well. No other decorations, save a painting of a young well-dressed girl with raven hair, adorned the wall.

Edmond greeted me on a large sofa opposite the fireplace, with a goblet of wine in his hand. The second goblet was set next to the bottle, which made me wonder if he had it brought in just for me, or if he always had it set up for other regular guests.

Suddenly feeling awkward, I just stood, worried about such trivial things as to where to sit. Should I sit next to him, or on a smaller armchair on the opposite side? I fidgeted on the spot, and felt like a fool.

“Come. Sit next to me. I am afraid the choice of wine was rather inadequate for the occasion, but I did my best at choosing the proper one,“ said Lord Trevelyan with a casual gesture towards the bottle, his smile showing teeth.

“I'm not here for a small talk, “ I mumbled, and did as I was told, accepting the goblet. A small sip tasted sweet on my tongue, quickly evaporating with a sensation of warmth down my throat. I swirled the goblet, my eyes on the dark red liquid, pretending not to notice the yellow eyes that were fixed on me.

“Remind me why you are here then," Lord Trevelyan said, leaning back into the seat. His voice was low and dangerous.

I cleared my throat and met his gaze for the first time since I arrived. His attitude was starting to grate on me again. "Why do you think I'm here?" My voice came out harsher than I intended, but he probably deserved that.

"I have some theories; If you wanted to merely 'scratch an itch', “ he shrugged, pausing to take another sip of his wine, “you could have gone to the tavern instead, and easily found a host of people willing to throw themselves at your feet, willing to bed the chosen of Andraste."

That was it. I didn’t want to hear any more of that horse shit. "First of all, “ I pointed my finger at his arrogant nose, “nobody’s throwing themselves at my feet, and second, if they did, what makes you so different from them?“

The thought of being with anyone who saw me as this religious figure on a pedestal made my stomach feel queasy. Surely that was not how Trevelyan saw me. I continued in my best mocking tone, “Either you think me ordinary, or you count yourself above them." What a surprise that the conversation’s turning into an argument already!  

Trevelyan raised an eyebrow and simply grinned. “I count myself above most people. Rightly so. After all, you are here with me, are you not?"

I opened my mouth to say something clever but i just couldn't find the words. How arrogant could the man be? I was starting to regret this whole thing. “Look. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here,” I stood. Maybe trying my luck at the Tavern wasn't such a bad idea.

"They wouldn't interest you anyway, because they’d want to be with the Herald,“ he said as if he had read my mind. He still leaned comfortably into the seat, not concerned at all by my imminent departure. He paused to study my face and continued, “ and you don't want to be the Herald."

The way he said it, was not a question.

"Don't presume to know what I want!" I raised the voice, my cheeks burning. He read me like an open book, and all I could do was trying to hide how much his words affected me. Fists balled tight by my sides, I wanted to punch him in the face, because of how right he was.

Lord Trevelyan put his goblet down and stood, seeming to tower over me. Damn his height. I looked up into the golden flames that were his eyes, and my knees suddenly went weak. I felt a lot less like punching him now.

"You intrigue me, inquisitor,” he said, his expression dead serious.

His hand reached up and gently brushed my hair to the side of my face, caressing my cheek, melting away my anger. I really didn't know what to say or do, so I met his gaze with my mouth slightly agape, all too aware of the heat both on my face and in my loins.

I would never say this out loud, but he also intrigued me.

“You are so full of contradictions, “ he continued. “You are in the position of power, which I assure you, a number of men would give anything to obtain, yet you treat it like some sort of inconvenience.

“You are cautious to the fault when others wellbeing is at stake, yet utterly reckless in the matters concerning yourself. You pretend not to care about the results but you always strive to achieve the best. You say that you hate me, yet here you are. "

I wasn't sure if these observations of his were meant as an insult or a compliment. But the truth in them made me wish that the earth split open underneath me and swallow me whole. Yes, I would take the hole in the sky too.

"Stop..." My shoulders sagged, all the fight taken out of me.

"As you wish, ” he said, and he reached down to kiss me. It was soft and gentle. Warm and sensual. He tasted like the wine, fragrant yet intense, intoxicating. When he let go, I was ready to give him everything.

“I would have you forget about being the Herald, “ he whispered, “but you could command me to stop, if you so chose. At any time. Understand?"

"Yes, " I breathed, anticipating more kisses, maybe an embrace. But, Trevelyan settled back down into the seat, and casually filled his goblet with more wine. I waited with my kiss swollen lips slightly parted and my eyes blinking, puzzled.

"Good, “ he said and took the goblet to his glistening lips. “Now, get undressed.”

Was he serious? Yes, judging by the intense yellow eyes of his. My face threatened to melt away with all the heat as I started unbuttoning my jacket, fumbling and rather hastily too.

"No. Slowly,” he said, thankfully without laughing.

As I undressed, slowly, his eyes devoured me, with inches by inches of newly exposed skin. I grew more and more aroused with each item of clothing I tossed down, and when I finally freed my length from its confines, it was standing proud, begging to be touched.

The sight must have satisfied the human, because he all but pounced from his seat and stood before me, enveloping me tight with his strong arms.

His kisses were fire, hot and searing; they consumed all my thoughts. His touches were electric; fingertips burning into my skin, leaving me trembling at its wake. I was lost in his embrace, both sweet and cruel. When he pushed me onto his bed, I didn’t even know how I had gotten there.

I lay there, my back against the cold sheets, and watched him shed his own garments, swift and decisively. I marvelled at the strong outlines of his muscles gleaming in the firelight, criss crossed with scars. My gaze lingered onto his broad hairy chest a while before travelling down the rigid grooves of his abdomen, and then down further.

I stared at his erection, perhaps much longer than I should. I wondered what kind of face I was making, for he saw me and simply grinned, revealing wicked row of teeth. It was certainly… different. Larger than mine, with a tuft of dark hair around its base. At that point, I caught myself stroking my own, which was already wet around the tips.

His grin broadened, seemingly pleased by my reaction to his nakedness. And from his glittering golden eyes, I knew for certain that he wanted me, all of me.

“Pull your knees up, until they touch your shoulders,” he commanded. I reluctantly let go of myself, and did as I was told. “Spread them wider,” he told me, with a sharp slap on my arse that sent a shock all the way to the tip of my cock, which tingled and throbbed. I made a small noise from the back of my throat, and licked my lips, my cheeks scorching hot, imagining how I must look to him, exposed like this.

This kind of treatment should have made me angry, but instead I found it liberating. My world was much simpler, here and now, coloured only with explicit pains and pleasures, that seemed entirely out of my control, yet it was all precisely in my control. In a bizarre way, everything made sense.

Not daring to look back at him while his golden gaze touched hungrily upon my exposed body, I closed my eyes, which made every other senses become sharper. I was aware of every rustle of sheets, his scent mingled with that of the wine, and most of all, my throbbing, aching cock, until I felt the heat of his body on top of me.

His lips assailed mine, rough and fierce, hard enough to bruise. I moaned and breathed, in every little gap between sucking and biting. The hairs on his body felt strange around my bare skin at first, but they felt softer than I thought.

He gathered my hands and gripped them above my head by the wrists, while the weight of his body held my legs in place. His lips found my sensitive ear, nipping and sucking the tip, pulling at my earrings with his teeth, driving me wild with passion.

I rolled my hips to grind my throbbing length against his body. He shifted himself and rocked gently back and forth as well, making our cocks rub together between our bodies.

I tried to hold myself back, dangerously close to the threshold already. But his motion became more rough, urgent, bringing me to my limits, fast.

When his mouth latched onto my neck, teeth biting hard against my flesh, I arched my back and cried out loud. My body tensed like a coiled spring.

“I-I’m gonna..” I panted.

“Not yet,” he growled, separating himself from me all of a sudden. It took me all I had to hold myself from being undone right then.

“Please, I need to, “ I writhed, moaning, still on the edge. I sounded pathetic, even to my own ears. But Creators, I was so desperate for a release.  

“No, close your eyes, “ he said. I did so and waited, and almost jumped when his finger, sleek with something cold and sticky, slowly circled my hole. I gasped at the wonderful sensation.

Using his fingers, he invaded me, stretching and stroking, preparing. This tantalising, exquisite torture, went on for what felt like eternity. Reduced down to a squirming, quivering mess, I had no coherent thoughts left in my brains.

Full and bursting, riding on the edge of climax, my cock tensed, twitching and ready for release even without being touched.

But just as he began, he withdrew his fingers all too suddenly.

The loss was too much. I wanted, needed, to be filled again. “Please, “ I begged.

“Please what?”

“I need more…don’t stop.”

“Osiris, “ he said my name like he wanted to devour it, like it belonged to him. It made me shiver. “Tell me what you want.”

Oh, I knew what I wanted. I looked at him in the eyes, my voice thick with desire.

“Edmond, “ I uttered his name like a command, “I want you to fuck me.”  

“As you wish,” and he rammed his thick oil slicked length inside me, hard. All the way to the hilt.

The shock mingled with pain and pleasure, ran all the way to the tip of my toes, and up to my head. I arched my back and screamed.

Even with all the stretching and preparing he did, it felt so impossibly big, filling me to the limit.

He started moving, in and out, in and out, while his hand stroked my length at the same rhythm. Slow at first, but soon picking up the pace, mercilessly. His other hand drew circles over my sensitive nipple, and I cried out as he pinched it hard, sending a jolt of electricity.

That was it.

My world came to a focus, into a pinpoint, of this one sensation. I stopped breathing, my whole body tensed like a bow string, and then I let it release, screaming his name, spilling myself all over my stomach. My body spasmed on its own volition, pulsing and squeezing around his cock. After that, a few more hard thrusts were enough for Edmond to reach his own climax inside me.

I lay there, utterly sated, while Edmond got up without a word and dressed. Once proper, he returned with a wet cloth so I could clean myself. A thoughtful gesture, that I certainly didn’t expect.

I was beginning to imagine that he cared about me, but his eyes only had the look of a predator, satisfied at having feasted upon its prey. There was no warmth or caring.

Perhaps, it was better this way. Having any feelings would only complicate things. Trevelyan knew that all too well, no doubt. I was not ready for any kind of emotional involvement anyway. Still, the thought saddened me.

I got out of the bed, my legs buckling underneath me, my body aching and throbbing in odd places. As I gathered my clothes from the floor, and started getting dressed, the man settled back into the sofa, the goblet of wine back in his hand. He watched me, patiently as I fumbled with my belts and buckles, my cheeks burning again at his gaze.

"Would you like me to escort you back to your room, your Worship?" He said, as if nothing out of ordinary happened between us. “When you feel like you can stand properly, of course.”

With that, the magic was broken. I was the Herald again, and he was a noble shem from Ostwick, the most arrogant, egotistic, annoying son of a fucking nug herder I ever had a misfortune of meeting!

I turned around and left without saying goodbye, slamming the door behind me.

Creators, I was such a fool. I was not even sure what I expected from dallying with a shem. Never again, would I act according to my bodily urges.

I returned to my quarters, angry and exhausted. When I crawled inside the cold sheets of my own bed, I missed his intimate touches already and hated myself for it. After some tossing and turning, I began to drift into much needed sleep.

Except… a thought occurred to me that made me sit bolt upright; I had left my scarf there.  

May the dread wolf take him.

* * *

  **Eyes** (written by Slugette)

They say that eyes are the window of the soul. Osiris couldn’t quite understand what kind of soul lurked behind those intense yellow eyes of Lord Trevelyan. They were unsettling, to say the least, and they followed him, like that of a predator trained on its prey. 

Osiris’ cheeks flushed red as their eyes met, his heart beating thousand times a second. He turned away quick as he could, his gaze now on the paperwork he held, its meaningless words floating around in his head. What was happening to him? 

He rubbed his face with his free hand and took a deep breath as he heard the measured footsteps from behind.

Osiris turned around slowly with a carefully guarded expression.  “Can I help you with anything, your Grace?” He said, and met those golden eyes with his own.

 

* * *

  **Oops** (written by Slugette)

Jim did not like Lord Trevelyan. The Ostwick noble came to the Skyhold one day, and behaved as if he owned the place. Sure, he had a large army with him, but the man had no right to set himself up as the advisor. Furthermore, the way he spoke to commander Cullen was truly atrocious. 

Even the inquisitor disliked him, that much was clear, judging from the way that they talked to each other, specially the condescending tone Lord Trevelyan often used towards the young herald.

Jim had been watching the man for some time, even had decided to stay outside his chambers after he’d gone in for the night this day. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to find. Just wait and see, he thought. 

His patience was rewarded when Trevelyan slipped out of his room. Finally. Jim held his breath.

He took the utmost care into following the man without being seen, but he almost gasped when he saw him enter the herald’s quarters. An attempt at assassination? The man had given the orders to kill the inquisitor before. Jim shook his head, which was rapidly filling with the images of Lavellan lying on the pool of blood with Trevelyan manically laughing, or something similarly morbid. 

Jim stood outside the door and listened. For a while he just heard muffled voices, and there it was, the noises of struggles, cries of pain, and what he supppsed the furniture being upended!

He bit his lips. He wasn’t sure if he could overpower Trevelyan if he burst in on his own. Go get some soldiers? But what if something worse happened to the inquisitor while he was gone? Rooted on the spot, gripped by indecision, Jim stood, with his knuckles whitening on the door handle.

Sudddenly there was silence. A heartbeat. Two. Cold sweat ran down his spine and Jim couldn’t wait any longer. He had to save the inquisitor!

He opened the door and entered into the darkened room. He held his breath, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword, sweat beading on his brow inside his hooded headgear. When he reached the top of the steps, only a single candlelight illuminated a figure tied to a chair. His heart sank. What had the bastard done to the herald!

As he approached the inquisitor, Jim noticed that he was also blindfolded. There were signs of struggles on his bare torso, angry red marks in between the criss cross of ropes binding him. He didn’t appear to be bleeding, thank the Maker. He had to free him. Only when he reached out, a flash of thought occurred to him that Trevelyan would be lurking somewhere.

“Touch him, and lose your hand,” said the voice from the shadows.

“W-what? Is someone else in here?” said Inquisitor Lavellan, his face colouring bright red. Only then, Jim noticed the quite unmistakenable arousal in the elf’s trousers, his cherry red lips, and also the.. toys, laid out near by. 

Oops. 

His head put two and two together, and it was now his turn to turn beetroot red. Jim backed away. One step. Two. Then he mumbled something unintelligible, which could have been “Sorry” or “My bad”, before bolting away. 

 

* * *

**Snuggles** (written by Slugette)

Osiris collapsed onto the bed, his whole body aching, but utterly sated. He groaned, pulling the sheets over his naked form, not even caring about the sweat and worse things that made him feel sticky and unclean. 

He knew he should be ashamed of how much he enjoyed these encounters with Lord Trevelyan. Once again, for about the fifth time, he vowed never to give in again, never to allow this man to overpower him into submission, and bring him up to such height of pleasure. He sighed. 

Trevelyan got up, and dressed quietly. He would just leave as he always did. Osiris felt a pang of regret that he wouldn’t spend the night. He realised that he already missed the heat of the human’s body next to him.

Perhaps he could ask him to stay, but all he managed to say was, “Leaving?”  

“Why? Did you expect a snuggle?” said Lord Trevelyan, now fully dressed, a hint of a smile on his lips that made him look cold rather than genuinely amused. 

“No, forget it.” said Osiris, turning his back to the man. 

“Goodnight, your worship.” said Edmond before turning away. The use of his formal title made the nature of their relationship painfully clear to the elf.  

As the footsteps disappeared, Osiris closed his eyes, but the sleep did not come easy.

 

* * *

**Regret** (written by Sluah)

Edmond Trevelyan sat on the bed carefully and looked at Osiris. The Inquisitor was lying naked with his back turned to him, just a breath away, and looked sound asleep.

He picked up his clothes and dressed without haste. The hour was already late, or very early, for him to be seen walking out of the Inquisitor’s chambers, but still he felt uncomfortable doing so. There are always guards around and even spies that were sure to watch over the Inquisitor without being seen. Lord Edmond couldn’t suppress a guilty smile as he imagined their surprise at the events of the last few nights and the reports they were sure to be giving Sister Nightingale.

There was always something he needed to discuss with the Inquisitor: the guard’s poor training, the quality of the soldiers armour, the defensibility of Skyhold. Tonight’s excuse had been the Inquisitor’s upcoming visit to Halamshiral.

Edmond would go to the Herald’s room, they would discuss his fake reason for the night visit for a couple of minutes and then he would pull Osiris close, hold the back of his neck and crush him in his arms while they kissed hungrily. None of them needed to pretend anything after that. Clothes were pulled, almost ripped off, and hands explored the already known secrets of the other’s body, while their tongues were never apart, dancing for dominance.

Osiris would always submit. He wanted to. He needed to let go and feel the release of being claimed. Edmond would take him with all his might, giving in to his lust without guilt or remorse. As Osiris needed to be powerless, Edmond needed to break the rules, to do something he knew to be wrong.

Already fully dressed, Edmond couldn’t take his eyes from Osiris’ sleeping form. The dim light that was coming from the window was reflected in the Inquisitor’s pale naked body and Lord Trevelyan knew he could be entranced by that sight all night. With regret, he leaned in and pulled a sheet over Osiris’ body.

Of course there were no guards outside the room, nor would he come across any servant. There was no excuse he could give himself to justify spending the night next to Osiris. He walked around the room to look at the Inquisitor’s sleeping face before leaving and he smiled at how beautiful he was.

But he could not stay the night. Osiris never asked him to nor had Edmond offered. Sleeping together would make things different. Edmond knew different would be confusing and complicated. And different was never meant to be.

Without being able to avoid a second look, Lord Edmond left. And felt terrible sad doing so.

 

* * *

**training** (written by Sluah)

Lord Edmond Trevelyan was walking up and down the Skyhold courtyard right in front of the soldiers’ training camp. His arms were crossed behind his perfectly postured back and he wore an air of mild disapproval. Every once in a while he paused next to the training supervisor to criticise his methods or to call out his attention to some soldiers’ shield posture, sword arm reach or whatever he felt like it was not as good as it should be.

Inquisitor Osiris Lavellan was training alone, a few feet away, and couldn’t ignore his soldier’s discomfort anymore. He lay his sword against the wall, cleaned the sweat from his brow and crossed the courtyard with fast decided steps. He stop in front of Lord Trevelyan “a word, please”. He gestured Edmond to follow him and went into the soldiers’ barracks.

The Inquisitor closed the door as soon as Lord Trevelyan entered and turned to him. “Captain Eothen is more than capable off…”. With one quick move, Edmond spun Osiris around and pressed him face facing the wooden door.

“There are people outside…” Osiris began, he felt uncomfortable with the proximity of his soldiers but he was not surprised at this turn of events. Edmond pressed his body very slowly against the Inquisitor’s back and his tongue started to caress the back of Osiris neck, tasting his sweat, making the elf tremble slightly.

“Someone may come in…”, Osiris said as he started to move his body closer to Edmond’s and turning his neck slightly to allow Lord Trevelyan’s tongue to reach more skin. “You are the one holding the door, your worship.” the human said just before biting Osiris neck hard, “don’t let them”.

The Inquisitor parted his lips and breathed deeply, still offering his exposed throat, as Edmond’s hand reached for it, squeezing slightly, forcing Osiris head to rest in the man’s shoulder behind him. Lord Trevelyan’s free hand dived inside the elf’s uniform, stopping between his thighs, touching Osiris very lightly, teasing him, forcing the elf to press himself against his hand.

Edmond’s left hand left Osiris throat and he could hear the human unleashing his own belt, letting it crash to the floor. Then Lord Trevelyan held the Inquisitor’s arms on top of his head, pressing them to the door. His right hand slowly left Osiris inflamed manhood and untied his lower outfit.

Breathing heavily, Edmond thrust into him hard and deep, stealing soft moans from the elf’s still parted lips.

Their rhythm speeded at each thrust and Osiris only realised his voice was louder than a whisper when Lord Trevelyan murmured “we can make them hear us if that’s what you want”. The elf bit his lower lip and a shut his eyes.  Osiris tried not to think of the men just outside the door, but the fear of being discovered was extremely arousing. Edmond’s hand kept rubbing him, his grip  harder, as he moaned almost soundlessly in the elf’s ear. It took all of the Inquisitor’s willpower to hold a scream in his throat as he exploded, but he was able to just lean against the door, gasping for air.

When he turned around, Lord Trevelyan was already nobly dressed once again, his precious sword already hanging from his waist. He bowed to the Inquisitor with a mocking smile “I’ll wait for you outside, your worship”.

 

* * *

 

**Erection, Part 1** (written by Sluah)

The night was just beginning and already Lord Trevelyan was holding the Inquisitor close from behind, one hand gripping the elf strongly by the throat, the other stroking him vigorously between his thighs demanding louder moans at each movement.

Osiris couldn’t understand how he was already completely naked, his whole body uncontrollably burning with the need to be claimed, while the human was still fully dressed, with only his shirt slightly opened. Lord Trevelyan had a way of playing him, he knew how to make him cry out or beg and the further they took their encounters, the more the elf felt at human’s mercy.

Edmond tasted a drop of sweat from the Inquisitor’s neck, while he took Osiris’ hand and guided it to the elf’s own erection, teaching him the movements he was performing. As soon as the Inquisitor picked up the pace, the human’s hand slid up the elf’s body, taking it’s time, slowly savouring Osiris’ muscles. As he reached his shoulder, however, Lord Trevelyan released him and slowly backed away.

Osiris’ turned his head over his shoulder, his breath irregular and his lips slightly parted as he painfully stopped his own caress, and looked uncertainly at the human.

“Please don’t stop on my account”, Edmond answered the question in the elf’s eyes as he poured himself a glass of wine. “And do turn around”, Lord Trevelyan demanded while sitting comfortably on the sofa holding the glass, his yellow eyes burning with lust, “I can’t see otherwise”, he added with a predator like smile.

 

**Part 2** (written by Slugette)

“And do turn around. I can’t see otherwise,” said Lord Trevelyan, sitting comfortably on a sofa with a wine glass in his hand.  

Osiris did as he was told without a word, and looked into the human’s predator eyes. He knew the game they played, and how to play his part in it. Edmond was expecting a show, and he would give one to him, just a little different this time, perhaps.  His lips curled into a smile that matched the human’s. 

The elf sat on the edge of the bed, with his legs apart. He arched his back to show off the lean muscles on his stomach. His head angled to one side ever so slightly, chin tilted up to expose the long curve of his neck. 

Edmond sipped his wine, and Osiris didn’t miss the way he licked his lips, with the yellow eyes burning with desire. Good. Let him crave. 

The elf’s long fingered hand moved up and down his length, beautifully blushing near its tip and glistening with precum. His soft cherry lips parted slightly, letting out a small moan every now and again.His eyes never left the human’s. Another sip of wine. The hunger was growing.

His hand moving slightly faster now, Osiris bit his lower lip, his chin tilting to further expose his neck. A bead of sweat followed the curve of his jaw, then the long line of his neck to collect on the hollow of his throat. 

_Crack!_ The wine glass shattered on the floor.

Edmond’s long strides closed their distance over a heartbeat. Osiris gripped the front of Edmond’s tunic, undoing the clasps with nimble fingers, while the human’s calloused hands clutched both sides of his head. Their lips met in a crash, the passion driving them both into a frenzy.

They savored each other well into the night, their act ardent, but tender at times too. When they finally reached the climax, the elf cried out the human’s name, which felt, to them, louder than the shattering of the wineglass, and much more surprising. 

 

 

* * *

**Forbidden truth**   - _Part 1_ (written by Sluah)

Lord Edmond Trevelyan closed the door behind him, after a quick nod to the soldiers standing guard outside the Inquisitor’s chambers. He couldn’t prevent a small smirk at their fake casualty upon seeing someone entering at such a late hour without even knocking.

Sure enough the whole of Skyhold was aware of his and Osiris’ arrangement by now, as the Lord’s private life is always the favourite subject of gossip amongst servants and soldiers alike. And it was only a matter of time until the rumors breached the walls and spread across Thedas.

As he climbed the dark staircase leading to Osiris’ room, Edmond wondered what people would make of that. Would they believe him to have seduced the Inquisitor, so he and Ostwick would have a strong hand in the Inquisition? That would make him a very powerful man indeed. Strangely enough, the idea of Thedas believing him holding the Inquisitor as a puppet did not sound as appealing or as empowering as he would have believed. It actually made him angry.

“I apologise for my delay,” Edmond said as he reached the top of the stairs, “your Commander was being difficult.”

The whole room was dimly lit, save for the light cast by the huge fireplace and a few candles. Standing by the large window, with his back turned to Edmond, the Lord of Skyhold was peacefully gazing at the storm raging through the mountains. No matter how vicious the tempest, the room was warm and quiet, offering shelter and sanctuary from the world outside.

“Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to ridicule his month’ work, he would have been more accepting of your suggestions,” the elf answered without turning around as the human approached him.

“THAT took him a whole month?” Edmond laughed scornfully as he enveloped the elf from behind and nipped the back of his neck, “had I known, I would have been more straightforward in my instructions.”

“Oh, shut up,” Osiris purred, turning to Edmond, who immediately claimed his lips.

This was it. Their … arrangement. No false pretense was needed any longer, no excuse or motive for a late visit. They would drown and feast on each other, without restraint or remorse. This was their way.  

Like a snake casting off its skin, they shed their clothing across the chamber, leaving a trail of dismissed garments up to the bed.

Edmond had learned all too well by now how to make Osiris shiver. Just a brush of his thumb, a command hushed in his ear, fingers up from his neck through his hair. A nip of teeth against the collar bone and Osiris arched his neck back, offering his throat to the wolf. It was a game of control and possession, of strength and seduction, nothing more.

The prey’s surrender made the predator’s hunger grow. Edmond would claim him, devour him, make him his. Their starving lips scorched each other, as their kisses became deeper, possessive and rough. Their hands drift lower, mirroring each other. Edmond’s heart pounded faster at their closeness, almost like they were one for just a moment. But in the back of his mind, unspoken emotions and forbidden temptations whispered and echoed, warning him of the danger.

“ _I love you_ ”, the words almost escaped his lips as he fought against the crushing feeling of belonging and possessing, of the oneness brought on by the elf’s naked skin against his own. It was a deafening whisper humming inside him, soft and barely audible, like a prayer begging for salvation, for a chance of happiness.  

Edmond parted his lips abruptly, like he was about to speak his thoughts out loud. But as Osiris looked at him, questioning, he answered by turning Osiris around and pushing him onto the bed. The elf ran his long fingers through the softness of the sheets and arched his back. His green eyes, dark with need peered back at him through long thick lashes. “Fuck me,” he said, his voice breathy and urgent..

Edmond’s lips slowly curled into a ravenous smile as his eyes followed the curve of Osiris’ spine, from the small of his back to his defined shoulders. No, he didn’t love him. He desired him, lusted for him, he wanted to tame him. It was not love. Love was weak and soft, futile and feckless. Whatever bound them in that moment was fiery and ravishing, unrestrained and primal. He kneeled behind the elf and held his body in place. “Say you want me!” Edmond commanded.

“I want you,” Osiris moaned obediently, gripping at the sheets and pressing his hips against the human. “Please….” He begged, with his beautiful, strong body made vulnerable before the human.

But that was not enough. Edmond ran his fingers through Osiris’ hair and pulled his head back with a jerk. “Say you’re mine!”

“Yes…” he breathed,  “I am yours...”

With that, he drove himself into the elf, with his body and soul alike, becoming one. There was no thoughts or restrictions, just for this moment. Only the song of their passion as they both surrendered to their base instincts. The melody that coiled them together, slipped into rhythm faster and as demanding as the beating of their hearts.

The loud thunderstorm and the howling wind ramming against the large Skyhold windows muffled the elf’s voice as he cried out the human’s name in passionate ecstasy. The log creaked and the flames of the fireplace burned to it’s peak, highlighting Edmond Trevelyan’s tense muscles as threw back his sweat soaked black hair, arched his neck, and climaxed thrusting as hard and deep as his lustful frenzy demanded.

Gently, Edmond removed himself from inside Osiris and allowed the elf to turn around to face him. Osiris was still trembling and panting underneath him as the human kissed his long neck slowly. Even with his lust momentarily sated, the elf was inebriating. Edmond tasted his sweat and inhaled his scent. He could lose himself in Osiris. And part of him feared he already had.

They stared into each other’s eyes, both still gasping for air, and Edmond took his calouse hand to Osiris’ flustered cheek, traced its form and brushed his swollen red lips with his thumb before claiming him into a deep kiss. Their exhausted tongues enwrapped in each other for few seconds, savouring the last of their craving. “ _I love you”_. Those words again; they  burned his tongue with their prohibition and bared out his weakness, his newly found frailty.

_Enough_ , Edmond told himself, _get up_.

But he couldn’t.  Another kiss, tender and soft, little more than a caress with his lips. So different from the rough, possessive sex they had just shared. Osiris smiled bathed in afterglow, his perfect red lips parting slightly, flushed cheeks adding radiance to his already breathtaking features...

_Get up! Now._

He was becoming pathetic. Edmond slowly rose from the bed, his mind racing with questions and accusations, as he picked up his clothes. He could no longer deny something was wrong. He might have allowed himself to become too attached to Osiris. He had noticed it before in other occasions too; sometimes, during war council, he caught himself proudly smiling at the elf’s suggestions; other times, in battle, he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure Osiris was alright. But not because he was the Inquisitor, but because …

He needed to think rationally. He needed to make some sense of what was going on.

“I’ll be away from Skyhold for some time.” The words just rolled out in their own accord, before his mind had a chance to actually formed a plan. “I’ll lead the support group Griffon Wing Keep has requested.”

“Oh”, Osiris jolted from the bed, “You decided that with Cullen?”

“No. I’m telling you now”, Edmond answered as he tied his belt, already fully dressed. “I expect to ride tomorrow at first light”.

“And… how long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks, I imagine. It will depend on how many Venatori are still around.”

Osiris was silent for a second, his face impassive. “Why are you going yourself? I wasn’t informed the threat was still that serious.” Was his tone different? Disappointed, sad? And was Edmond fearing or wishing it was so?

The human was ready to make up some excuse. Saying he didn’t trust anyone else to oversee the reinforcements, or that someone who understood the venatori threat should take the lead, would be believable enough, but for some reason his lips refused to lie.

The fearsome General stayed silent for a second, just staring at the naked elf sitting on the bed gazing back at him. Maker, he needed to get away soon. “Because I need to do this”, he simply answered. A stupid answer. A pitiful apology. Edmond could barely recognise himself on those words.

“Go then”, the elf said as he lied down again. But before Edmond turned to leave, Osiris rolled in bed and looked him with a boyish glow in his eyes and a mischievous grin, “Will you miss this?”

_Yes._

_No._

Would he?

“Are you going to start being over-sentimental just before I head out?”, Edmond managed to say coldly, but perhaps more coldly than he intended.

“Alright, I get it. Just get out of here.” Osiris laughed, but the shine in his eyes was gone, “Forget I asked. I have no delusion about what THIS is and I imagine there won’t be any sappy farewells before you ride out either, so I shall bid you goodbye now.” With that, the remainder of his laughter was gone too. “Dareth Shiral,” said the elf finally without a hint of regret.

Edmond inclined his head in a respectful bow. But not to the Inquisitor or to the Herald of Andraste, to the man he had grown to respect and care for. “See you soon, Osiris”, he said as he took his leave.

 

* * *

  **Who he ought to be -** _Part 2_ (written by Sluah)

An eerie blur of silence and darkness swamped around the massive Griffon Wing Keep, and only the torches’ flame seemed to keep it at bay, illuminating the fortress while casting ghostly reflexions on the sand below. It was late in the night when Lord Edmond Trevelyan sat alone on the high ramparts, with one leg hanging over the ledge, wearing nothing but a loose half unbuttoned white tunic and some light trousers.

A growing, overwhelming, feeling of being pulled in and swallowed by the surroundings made him close his eyes for a second. He had arrived at the keep little more than two weeks ago; more than enough time to deal with his excuse for this expedition, not nearly time enough to start making sense of why he was truly here.  

The remaining Venatori threat, to whom he charged the reason of his visit, had been dealt with quickly. Edmond had lead his men into capturing one of their camps, fed half of the prisoners  to the varghest and casually asked the remaining Venatori if they would like to cooperate with the Inquisition or be thrown to the beasts as well.

A patronizing smile made its way into Edmond’s lips, despite his discomfort at the sweltering heat still present even after the scorching sun had descended behind red dunes several hours ago. He remembered the air of shock and disgust that swept across several of the keeps’ soldiers and his mood lightened slightly. He was sure Knight-Captain Rylen, commander of the keep, had written a letter to Skyhold presenting his concerns about Lord Trevelyan and his men’s “barbaric actions”.

A familiar feeling, warm but troubling, swept over him as Edmond imagined Osiris’ face reading such report: his brows would tense, he would half shut his eyes and his red lips would part slightly. And he would give some stout reply. It didn’t matter how much Edmond tried to ignore it, that feeling, a pound in the chest every time he thought of the elf, was always present. It even kept growing every day he was away. It was a craving, a suffocating need for something inappropriate and unmentionable, right at his grasp but that kept slipping through his fingers.

Edmond sighed as he ran a hand through his loose raven hair. _Osiris_. It was stupid, even childish, to keep denying he had feelings for the Inquisitor. The Venatori in the Western Approach had allowed him some time out of Skyhold and he had planned to use it to take control over his infatuation for the elf. But just a mere thought of him and Trevelyan could almost feel the touch of the elf’s skin under his fingertips, the warmth of Osiris’ lips against his...

“Lord Trevelyan” an unmistakable Orlesian accent called Edmond away from his thoughts, “forgive me, but I was tasked with speaking with you.” A young man in his mid twenties, wearing the typical Inquisition armor, stood a few feet away partly lit by the trembling torchlight, doing the proper military salute.

“You carry a message?” Edmond asked him only half interested.

“No. I mean, yes,” the Orlesian guard stammered as he ceased his greeting, “the soldiers of my company were displeased at how you dealt with the Venatori.” He paused, clearly waiting for some response on Edmond’s part, but as he remained unimpressed and unconcerned, the young soldier felt compelled to add “those men were our prisoners and... “ Once again he stopped at Edmond’s lack of acknowledgment and seemed to collect his thoughts “the thing is, Ser…”

Lord Trevelyan got up, finally accepting that his peace and quiet would not return anytime soon. Some other night he might have taken the time to explain how the military chain of command worked and call it generosity towards Orlais, but in that moment he was not in the mood for a lesson.

“Is that all?” He was about to dismiss the soldier, and show his complete lack of interest over the troops’ opinions, but as he took a step forward, the soldier immediately took a step back.  Edmond stopped, momentarily amused, and raised an eyebrow. “Do I scare you?”

“You frighten us all, my Lord,” he confessed.

“Do I, now?” Edmond didn’t bother to hide a disdainful laugh, “no wonder the Venatori were still around, then”.  

After joining the Inquisition, the troops from Ostwick had quickly gained a reputation for being ruthless and bloodthirsty that set them apart from the remaining forces. That was who he was, Edmond took the chance to remind himself, fearsome and merciless. He enjoyed the echoes of such notoriety, as he was sure his men did, for some wars are won by reputation and fear alone.That was his legacy, his core. That was what he should offer Osiris’ cause, not weakness born of emotions.  

“But I also… wanted to thank you for saving my life back there” said the soldier and even though the keep’s battlements were dimly lit, Lord Trevelyan could see his cheeks reddening.  

“No need” Edmond answered dismissively, trying to ignore how his flustered face reminded him, once again, of Osiris. Everything in this cursed place seemed set to prevent him from putting the elf off his mind, “It’s my duty to watch over any men under my command.”

“Yes, but…” The young soldier slowly parted his lips and seemed to search for the right words somewhere on the stone floor. “You took a direct hit in my place, that isn’t something I would expect from someone who feeds prisoners to monsters.” His eyes ventured up once again, and as if the torches’ flame had shined another light over his fake shyness, they stared deep and seductively into Edmond’s. Then he took a few steps closer, as his gaze drifted from Edmond’s eyes to his lips, down his chest, almost like he was fascinated by how the noble lord frightened and attracted him at the same time. “Were you hurt, my lord?”  

So this was what it was all about. The Orlesian soldier was relatively tall and slender, pale skinned with high cheekbones. Now that he was only a breath away, Edmond could see his blue eyes and full lips that seemed blood red and fiery by the flames’ grace.

He was very attractive, no doubt. In a different time, not so long ago, Lord Trevelyan would have gladly accepted the invitation, but now something was different. Those days seemed distant, like a memory of a long gone careless youth, and Edmond found himself startled by the fact that he felt no interest or desire towards him. More than that, the simple idea of touching someone other than Osiris felt wrong.

_Enough about Osiris._ Not only was he being over emotional, he was also delusional. What was he being faithful to? To some hidden sexual encounters? He had no commitment or obligation towards the Inquisitor. No matter what Edmond foolishly wished it to be, theirs was a casual, momentary, physical gratification with no strings attached. There was nothing more nor should there ever be. Such self imposed restraints would only strengthen his emotional bond and weaken his reason.

Edmond brushed a strand of auburn hair peeking from under the helm, giving the soldier time to back away or stop him with a word. The young man’s breathing became faster and he parted his   lips, suggestively moistening them with his tongue. Lord Trevelyan loosened his helm and let it fall loudly on the stone floor, then he raised the soldier’s chin with his fingers, ran his thumb over the soft stubble, and claimed his lips.

It meant nothing.

Edmond would have trouble tracing back the steps as to how the young soldier ended up being undressed in his assigned quarters. It didn’t matter, it was as it should.

No attachment, no doubts or eagerness. Just a meaningless moment to be enjoyed while it lasted and hardly thought about it after. “My Lord” the soldier called out, arching his back and pressing his hips against Edmond’s, as the noble Lord absentmindedly ran his calloused tanned hand through the young man’s pale and smooth abdomen. He couldn’t help noticing he was shorter than Osiris and not so defined.  “Please…” the soldier moaned.

A strange voice muttering words so familiar brought Edmond back from the Inquisitor’s room in Skyhold to where his mind had drifted. “Don’t beg!” Edmond commanded him, as he turned the soldier towards him, “that’s not what I want from you”. Even though he would normally have enjoyed that particular foreplay and sexual game, it reminded him too much of Osiris and once again he felt he was betraying him.

The Orlesian bit his lower lip sensually, again as Osiris always did. “Very well” he said as he ran his hand down Edmond’s strong muscled chest, stopping and holding a strong grip between his thighs as he tip toed to whisper in his ear “what do you want from me then?”

He wanted the soldier to make him forget Osiris. To make him feel as complete as the elf did, to prove to him he didn’t need anything more than what a random stranger could offer. But Edmond simply smiled teasingly and asked as he pushed him to the bed “What? Do Orlesian only know how to plead?”

The room was small and stuffy from the day’s heat, with only a few spent candles casting a feeble light, but still their lust burned high and Edmond’s body reacted accordingly even though his mind wondered.

Another skin against his, another voice moaning softly. Edmond’s eyes were closed and his rough hands held the soldier’s tights in place as he set the violent, predatory rhythm of their meaningless sex. Every thrust was meant to push him away from Osiris, yet his mind kept calling out to him, his lips desperately trying to refrain from voicing the name of the one he so longed for.

Then a louder, unfamiliar, moaning, the first of several cries of pleasure, brought him back to reality and Edmond wondered for a second how a stranger ended up straddling him. It was not the same as it was with Osiris, it would never be. He knew it now, he was cursed, defeated, enthralled to feelings he couldn’t control. When ecstasy came, it was just flesh against flesh. Empty. Soulless.

Morning would soon be upon him, already sparks of crimson and orange seemed to breach through the darkness as Edmond returned to the same spot on the ramparts.

Had he really fallen that low? He who commanded armies since a young age, who had bled and killed for his home and it’s people, who valued his reason and intellect above all things; was being assaulted, defeated and humiliated by something irrational and weak.

These were not mere feelings to be reasoned with or taken under control with some time apart. It was something stronger, deeper. Something that he had no power against.

He knew this to exist only in songs or maybe in the lives of simple people who had no meaning in their existence and needed to be distracted with trivialities. He was not one of those people. On his word, actions that shaped the Free Marches were taken, and yet… a mere word from Osiris would have him on his knees.

There was no doubt of what he wanted. He wanted Osiris, he wanted to hold him close and whisper it was not just for meaningless pleasure, but it was real. It was stronger than his own will or pride.

There, staring into the vast ocean of stillness, as the red sun finally rose to paint the desert plains in shades of gold, Edmond fought his hardest battle yet. In his mind, the person he truly was had declared war to the one he believed he ought to be.

Pathetic. “The weak Trevelyan”, as his father said countless times and Tristan had echoed. A shadow of the strength and bearing of his ancestors. He could not, would not, be acknowledged as such.

And yet. That was who he was, the Trevelyan that fell in love with an elf.

 

* * *

**Too complicated -** _Part 3_ (written by Slugette)

Inquisitor Osiris sat at the desk in his quarters. The sun had already set, but the room was well lit by the warm lights of candles. **  
**

Despite the appearance of concentration over the paperwork laid neatly in front of him, his eyes focused over nothing in particular. The fingertips tapped some rhythm, and every so often, he gave a quick glance at the door, a corner of his mouth twitching into a smile each time he did so.

Soon there was a brisk knock on the door, and a bigger smile bubbled over the elf’s face. He lifted himself half off the chair, as if he was about to run to the door, but hesitantly sat back down, and dipped the quill into the inkwell.

The person at the door did not announce themselves, but there was no mistaking who it was by the sound of the footsteps coming up the stairs.

Osiris cleared his throat, gave a quick attempt at tidying the front of his hair, and stood up casually, or so he hoped to appear.

Lord Edmond Trevelyan approached unhurriedly and stopped a few steps from the desk, still wearing a dusty travel garb, having just arrived from the expedition in the Western Approach. His gaze, while fixed on the inquisitor’s, remained impassive, betraying no particular emotions..

Osiris suppressed an urge to run to him for a hug. It had only been a few weeks, but it seemed far longer. Now that he had him standing in this room, he realised he had missed the man dearly, not that he would ever admit it out loud by such indignified actions.

“Welcome back,” said Osiris as he walked over to Edmond. A broad grin made him appear rather boyish, accentuating his flushed cheeks peppered with freckles.

“Osiris,“ said Edmond, his expression somewhat somber. He would be tired from his long journey no doubt. But just hearing his name was enough to send a wave of pleasure down the spine. The elf leaned in closer till their bodies were almost touching.

“I… ,” Edmond started.

But Osiris interrupted with a small laughter. “Oh, I’m not too mad about the varghest thing, not so much now, at least. “

Edmond’s expression didn’t change however, nor did he attempt to gather him into his arms like he always did. In truth, he looked positively pained. Osiris raised an eyebrow.

“No, I need to tell you something, “ Edmond said, his tone awfully formal, and this time Osiris stayed silent.

“During my time in the Western approach, I took a soldier into my bed. It was a random situation that happened in an ill considered moment…“

Edmond spoke with his gaze firmly on Osiris, but the elf looked away. The playful grin had rapidly disappeared, replaced by a look of a surprise that quickly became hard and cold, his lips drawing a thin line with the jaws clenched tight.

All Osiris could do was to keep his rising anger in check. It felt like a betrayal, although it wasn’t. Not technically. In fact, what had upset Osiris was  how much the news affected him. Who Edmond took to his bed, was really none of his business. Why couldn’t he just shrug, and laugh it off instead?

“I apologise, “ Edmond concluded, “Even if I don’t think I owe you any explanations or apologies, I want you to know what happened, and that I regret it. What you do with such information is entirely up to you.“

Regret it?

Osiris didn’t know what he was supposed to say to this. Edmond was right, of course. He didn’t owe him any explanations or apologies. So, was he supposed to say thank you very much, and pretend that it never happened?

Osiris said nothing, eyes still averted. He forced himself to remain calm, as he swallowed back a thousand things that he wanted to shout out loud. His face felt too hot and he realized his nails had been digging painfully into his hands balled tightly into fists.

After a long suffocating silence, Edmond finally said, “Are you… jealous?”

At least he dropped that awfully formal tone, sounding rather amused instead. He lifted the elf’s chin so their eyes would meet. “I was not aware that we were exclusive. Tell me you don’t want me to touch anyone else.”

How. Dare. He.

Osiris’ eyes narrowed dangerously. He shook off Edmond’s hand as he took a step back, swinging his fist into the human’s smug face.

Thud! The force of punch was enough to turn his head completely. The utter surprise on his face when he came around, was some consolation, but not quite. The hot rush of anger, no longer restrained, gushed out to the surface faster than any rational thoughts could slow it down.

Edmond had recovered from the initial shock and stood ready in a defensive stance, as the elf launched himself with a cry. Seemingly effortless, he blocked and dodged the wild assault with well practiced reflexes. He only defended himself, never striking back. It meant taking a few glancing hits, but it didn’t seem to bother the man who maintained an air of ease, like someone sparring an unskilled fighter. Fighting someone who wasn’t worth the effort.

Such arrogance! Osiris let out a roar, kicking and smashing anything that got in his way as well. After causing a considerably more damage to the furniture than his opponent, Osiris stood, huffing and puffing, furious at how calm Edmond still appeared to be, despite bleeding from a corner of his mouth.

“Come on! Fight back, you fucking coward!” Osiris shouted, and this time, he feinted with his right, and hooked his left hand straight into the human’s chin.

“Better, “ Edmond simply said, rubbing his jaw, and smiled as he wiped blood from his lips.

Outraged, Osiris attacked, fast and wild, but most of his blows missed the target. Edmond, perhaps tired of just dodging, took an opportunity to grab him by the wrist and spin him around. The elf tried to twist away, but lost his balance and fell, taking the human down with him.

They rolled, grabbing and pulling, fighting for dominance. All the while, Osiris realised his anger was slowly ebbing away, along with his strength. After a token struggle or two, he let the human pin him down, his wrists firmly immobilized on either side of his head. He let himself relax slightly, his chest heaving to suck in more air.

The room was quiet, the only sound being their ragged breathing. The green eyes of the elf caught the yellow of the human, intense and uncompromising. They stayed like that, entranced, until their breathing started to slow.

Even without any words, both the regrettable deeds and the unwarranted violence were forgiven in their hearts, but there was also something more, a hint of realisation, or even a promise.

Free from the rage, Osiris became aware of the weight and heat of the body on top of him, and bit his lower lip as he realized that his own body had reacted without any consideration for his thoughts.

“Had enough?” was all Edmond said, his gaze dipping down to the elf’s lips and back up, and Osiris saw hunger, no, more like a yearning in those yellow eyes.

“No,“ said Osiris, his green eyes burning with something other than anger this time.

Edmond groaned, and kissed him, impetuous and violent. It tasted like blood but the elf hardly cared, returning the kiss with a savage abandon. He let go of Osiris’ wrists, and grabbed the front of his tunic, ripping it open, with a shower of metal buttons and bits of buckles over the hard floor.

Edmond claimed, with his lips against soft skin around the neck, his teeth scraping and marking what was his. Osiris answered with moans and cries of passion, nails digging into hard muscled back. The kiss that followed was hot and desperate, pushing and pulling with a fist full of hair.

So urgent was their need that they tore at their clothing, which fell in pieces until they were skin to skin, rubbing and grinding against each other.

Osiris closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensations of pleasure mixed with pain, heat that sent cold shivers down his body. Then without any warning or hesitation, he was full, one with another body. He gasped, his fingers clawing over the scarred grooves of hard muscles. With each thrust, he writhed and moaned, raw and primal like an animal, with the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Harder. Faster. They soon cried out in unison, both collapsing into a heap tangled limbs.

Utterly sated, they lied there on the floor by the fireplace, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Had enough now?” Edmond asked, gently removing strands of red hair off the elf’s face and tucking it behind a long ear.

“Yes,” said Osiris, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. He wiped the blood off the corner of the human’s mouth with his thumb. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“As a matter of fact, I am rather pleased that you did, ” said Edmond.

“Truly? Pleased to be punched in the face?” Osiris asked with a playful grin, much like the one he wore earlier in the evening.

Edmond was silent for some time, thoughtful and serious, until he finally said, “That meant you feel something for me.” His tone was soft, like he was relieved.

“Still, “ said Osiris, clearing his throat, suddenly embarrassed. “I had no right to get angry like that. Truth is… I don’t know what I feel. Not yet. I… I just know that I can’t stand the thought of you being with another.”

Edmond nodded. “I won’t touch anyone else, “ he said it like a promise, and then hesitated,  “Osiris…. “

“Well, it’s settled then,” said the elf, too quickly before Edmond had a chance to continue.  ”Does this mean we’re…”

An item? A couple? Lovers? Really? Did he love him? Osiris knew he couldn’t voice any of this thoughts out loud, so he just turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “Ah, nevermind. I don’t want things to get too complicated, i guess.“

Edmond sighed. “Neither do I.“

But the thing was, Osiris realised, their relationship had already gotten too complicated. It had become somewhat more than just mutual gratification. He genuinely cared about the man. Did he love the human lord? He wasn’t sure. Not yet.

He hoped Edmond wasn’t playing some elaborate game, with some hidden agendas. Some people whispered Edmond was using the Inquisitor for his own power, toying with him. If that was the case, Osiris knew for sure he was doomed, because right now, he would rather be played by the human Lord than have him gone.

He watched Edmond go, and contemplated on more pressing issues instead, like the utter destruction he had caused to the room, and how he was going to explain it to the cleaning staff in the morning.


	3. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events that happen during the Winter Palace, and after, up to the time they march for Adamant fortress.

**Dance** (written by Sluah and Slugette)

After Lady Morrigan returns to the Ball, Lord Edmond casually approaches Inquisitor Lavellan in the balcony at the Winter Palace and presents him a crystal glass with the best Orlesian wine.

They toast "To new alliances" and discuss the evening's events. But before they join their companions in the Grand Hall, Lord Trevelyan smiles teasingly, makes the most perfect Free Marchen bow and offers his hand to Osiris.

"May I have this dance, Your Worship?".

Osiris reaches out to take his hand, but hesitates. 

“People are watching, you know? I thought you cared about such things.” The elf says with only a hint of a smile on his lips.  He blames his pride for not just taking the human’s hand. Why does he always have to make things difficult? He looks into Edmond’s eyes, almost pleading ,but also half expecting him to walk away.

Edmond’s smile grows larger, slightly mocking the elf’s hesitation. With one single movement he holds Osiris hand and embraces his waist, pulling him close. 

Two step to the right. “Worried about my reputation, your Grace?”, the human asked staring into Osiris green eyes, “After your actions tonight, half the Court is wishing they could do the same.“ 

Three steps to the left. "I was getting jealous”, Edmond whispers as he leans closer to Osiris’ ear. 

Lord Trevelyan releases the Inquisitor, smiling triumphantly, and bows before heading to the grand hall again. “Come, everyone’s waiting for you”

Osiris stands alone, mouth agape, cheeks slightly flushed. What just happened? There seems to be a definite pattern to their ‘encounters’; First Edmond says something, somehow has his way, then leaves him utterly baffled.  The most frustrating thing is, the fact that he’s always left wanting more of the shem’s company. 

Osiris takes a deep breath, straightens his formal garb before walking back to the party. 

 

* * *

 

**The Winter Palace** (written by Slugette)

Osiris has been in many bad situations. He always imagined the worst had been the times in the battlefields, where corpses littered the ground, and people suffered and died all around. The thought never crossed mind that he would find something worse.

The winter palace. Behind the masks, and all the finery, people fought their battles in the name of the Game. Some suffered and some even died. He could almost smell the stench of rot.

The inquisition business was already over. Gaspard was put on the throne, but the elven woman Briala would be the real ruler. Osiris hoped that she would make the difference for the elves. His people. Maybe some day, the eyes behind the masks would not see the likes of him with such contempt.

Osiris looked out from the little corner behind the pillar. He felt ridiculous at himself for hiding, but it was getting too hard to pretend, to try to play the Game. He needed a break from the world of the shems. He rubbed his temple, as his eyes followed Lord Trevelyan. He was in his element, moving around as if he owned the place.

“Inquisitor. You found a comfortable spot for yourself?” said Leliana. Osiris nearly jumped, as the spymaster seemed to have materialised out of thin air.

“Uh, yes. I understood that I was no longer needed.”

“There are still those who are dying to meet the hero of this day.”

“A hero? Hardly,” said Osiris almost absentmindedly, his eyes still following Lord Trevelyan who started dancing with a slender woman in a bright blue dress that was designed to resemble a butterfly. The very height of this season’s fashion, as someone had mentioned to him earlier.

Leliana glanced at the object of his attention. “That is Countess Josette Durand.”

“What?”  

“Countess Durand. She’s a widow who has been following our Lord Trevelyan’s affairs for some time. She even came to Skyhold for a visit last month. She is quite influential in Orlais, and I can see she is not wasting this opportunity to sink her claws into our Lord Edmond. She has been practically circling him all night like a bird of prey.”

“So I have noticed, “ said Osiris, his eyes hard, but trying not to give Leliana the reaction he knew she wanted. He felt a lump in his chest and rubbed his temple again.

“The alliance between Lord Trevelyan and Countess Durand would benefit our cause as well. For now, she hasn’t openly supported the inquisition, but if she did? She has many ties in Orlais that we could use.”

It was hard to breathe, the air around him seemed to suffocate. Osiris inclined his head at his spymaster. “Thank you Leliana for your insight. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

He headed out to the balcony, walking as fast as he could without running. Once there, he held his chest and leaned heavily over the railing. He closed his eyes, and the images of Edmond dancing with the Countess burned inside his skull.

Why was he feeling this way? None of this made any sense.

He took a deep breath, and forced himself to be calm. He reminded himself that what he had with Edmond was just for physical pleasure. Nothing more. There couldn’t be more.

‘There was only one way to fix this,’ thought Osiris.

Whatever’s between him and Edmond, it had to stop now. His fingers fidgeted around the silver wedding band on his left hand as he thought of Bella. He was not sure he could take that kind of hurt again.  

 

Countess Josette Durand

* * *

 

**Command me** (written by Sluah)

Edmond’s sword hit The Iron Bull’s shield with all the warrior’s rage. The Bull roared with excitement as their training became more and more aggressive, but Lord Trevelyan had soon forgotten his adversary as well as the soldiers that were gathering all around them for what could only be described as a clash of giants.

“Do you think you can own me like those elven servants at the Palace?”, Osiris had demanded less than an hour ago.  

Edmond’s growled silently, as he and the Bull circled each other looking for an opportunity to strike. But while the qunari was enjoying a great fight, Edmond’s body was reacting on his own accord, while his mind wandered to fight his own ghosts.

This was his own fault! How could he not have foreseen this?! He should have prepared Osiris for what he was to witness in the Winter Palace! Living with the Dalish, he had only heard rumours of how the elves are treated by the upper classes. But seeing it first hand, experiencing the shame and humiliation of his kin; how could Edmond expect him to act differently?

“I saw what my people are to yours at the winter Palace”, Osiris had snapped at him, “I saw it in the eyes of every shem who looked at me like some dirty savage”. There was hate, disgust and accusation in his tone and all the words lashed at Edmond like a whip. Because Osiris was right. Was he not to blame as much as those other nobles? He lived in their mist, he was used to see elves as servants at court. He was so used to it that he had not even remember to warn Osiris of the abuse he was about to witness, because that was such normal, common thing.

He let his shield stance soften and the Bull didn’t miss the chance to strike. He hit the human with a blunt blow on the chest, sending him patting a few feet backwards. But it didn’t hurt enough, not as much Edmond was hoping for. He should let his guard down more discreetly, he told himself, because the Bull had held back at the last minute.

But it wouldn’t matter how strongly the qunari hit him, his heart was already bleeding out and there was no other pain that could hide the one he already felt.

But still, Edmond fought with a perfect equation of strength and balance. His steps were instinctive, mechanical; his mind was wandering, but his body was guided by his need to release his sorrow. He attacked and tripped his adversary with deadly precision, the Bull was outbalanced and Edmond hit his shield across his face.

Maybe he shouldn’t have forced an answer, maybe this was his fault too. Osiris had been avoiding him since they returned from the Winter Palace and Edmond brought this upon himself. He should have given him more time.

“Yes”. This soft, whispered, weak word had thrown the mighty warrior to his feet.

Osiris ended Edmond’s world with one “yes” spoken with his back turned. But Edmond knew he had been the one sharpening the blade. “Does this mean you want us to stop seeing each other?”,  the human had asked. But Osiris stayed silent. “You want to distance yourself from me?”, Edmond asked again. “Answer me!!”, he snapped, his voice raising.

“Yes”, came Osiris reply, his voice but a whisper.

He stabbed his sword in the ground, where the qunari’s neck had been less than a second ago. “Oh wow, easy there!”, laughed the Iron Bull as the rolled out of the way.

The soldiers were cheering now, a great commotion all around them, but it was all a buzzing noise forming an arena. Lord Trevelyan wanted to be taken down, to be cut, hurt, bleed out. He wanted to hit the ground and loose conscience. So he kept attacking his opponent, forcing the Bull’s blade to be faster and harder.

But no matter how much he tried, he was still standing, he was still feeling, was still hurting.

“Doesn’t matter what I want, you should marry her. It is the best for you and for the Inquisition”, had been Osiris sentence.

“Countess Josette Durand is a beautiful woman… and she’ll make you happy”. Countess Durand. A wonderful player of the Game, far better than the Inquisitor, judging by his naive assumptions. “She has feeling for you”, Osiris had said, “And you deserve to be happy”.

Edmond should have told him right that minute “I will only be happy with you”. “I never wanted anyone else”. Would it have made a difference?

He had grabbed Osiris arm and forced him to look into his face “Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to marry her”, Edmond had demanded.

But Osiris did. And all was lost.

“Command me, then”, Edmond had said, “for I will only do it for you. For your Inquisition. Because the stronger your Inquisition is, the safer you’ll be.”

Command me. I’ll fall on my sword, I’ll abandon my duty, I’ll cast away my title. Command me. I am yours.

But the elf had never been his.

A strong blunt blow granted him the release he had hoped for and Edmond felt the world swallow him and his pain easing as he finally lost conscience.

 

* * *

 

**Mi’nas’sal’inan** (written by Slugette)

A human warrior circled a massive Qunari in the courtyard ring. An elf crouched atop the battlements, peeking at the spectacle through the gaps on the stony wall. The fight hasn’t even started yet, but the tension was mounting even to the heights of the walls.

The iron bull rolled his shoulders, shouting something that the elf couldn’t quite make out. Edmond remained silent. The human warrior, tall and broad in the human standards, looked small, almost fragile next to the hulking Qunari.

Osiris clutched at the stones, and crouched lower. He had no desire to be seen, yet his eyes bore down on the human, as if looking away would make him disappear altogether. But that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Because he is a shem, and an elf couldn’t belong in his world as an equal.

Osiris jumped when he heard the familiar voice behind him.  

“What are you doing hiding in there, kid! I’ve been looking all over for you!” said Varric walking up from the steps.

Osiris raised an eyebrow, greeting the dwarf with only a lift of his chin. The dwarven storyteller had been calling him ‘kid’ ever since they met. It didn’t bother him, oddly. Quite an opposite. The affection of the term reminded him of the way his clan’s keeper called him da’len.

“Are you seeing this right now? They’re all pumped up. One of the chargers was collecting bets even. I thought you of all people would be down there for sure.”

Osiris shrugged, his eyes trained on the circling warriors below.

“Did something happen between you two? You seem a little off, ever since we got back from the Winter Palace.” said Varric, his brows wrinkled in concern. Was he that obvious? Osiris sighed, and turned to look at his friend, perhaps the only friend here.

“We decided to… No, I told him I want some time apart. I have a lot of duties. It was distracting me, and…” Osiris began, his eyes downcast, and Varric interrupted, “So what, you told him that you’ll just, stop? Just like that?”

Osiris nodded, shifting his gaze towards the practice ring. “I guess I did just that. I also told him he should marry Countess Durand.”

“What, Durand? That snake? Now I understand what that look on Trevelyan’s face was all about.” said the dwarf, tutting.

“Look kid. Do you even realise what you asked him?“

"I asked him because I care about him. I want him to be happy.” Osiris said, his voice barely audible.

“What about you? Would you be happy if he married?”

The question stung. He wanted to say what he wanted didn’t matter. He wanted to say he would be happy as long as Edmond was. All lies. the words became a lump in his throat, and he swallowed, shaking his head in response instead.

The warriors exchanged the first blow, nothing more than a formality before beginning their ‘exercise’ in the earnest. The ringing noise of metal on metal still made Osiris flinch. He leaned forward for a better view, despite the chance of being seen.

The iron bull was laughing, confident in his stance, and surprisingly light on his feet. Edmond shifted cautiously behind his shield. Why are you doing this Edmond? Osiris knew that he was the reason. Did he want to find someone to hit? The elf thought that it might have been him that the human wanted to hit. Frankly, it would have felt better if he did.

“How much do you know about Trevelyan’s marriage with his former wife?” said Varric, breaking him out of the chain of thoughts.

“Little. Why does it matter?” Osiris said absentmindedly, biting his lower lip as Edmond blocked another vicious blow.

“There was a bit of a talk circulating in Free Marches. Everyone knew Trevelyan married for profit, that the marriage was a loveless one. Some even say he was quite miserable.”

Osiris didn’t say anything, his eyes following the fighters. He was sure Edmond just opened himself up on purpose. He gasped as the bull’s wide swing connected. The human staggered, but brought his sword back up to parry the next blow. The crowd cheered them on.

“Can you imagine that, kid? Promising yourself to a complete stranger for the good of your family name? And you asked him to do it again?”

The words brought the memories, of the way Edmond had looked at him with the eyes full of sorrow. “Command me.” he had said, and there had been hurt in his voice.

Osiris rubbed his temple and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I thought she would make him happy. I saw them together in the winter palace. She must love him! She looked at him like, i don’t know, like..” said Osiris, looking exasperated.

“Like she wanted to swallow him whole?” Varric finished for him.

“She was playing the Game, kid, and so was Trevelyan. She has a lot to gain by the marriage, and love is probably the last thing on her mind. They would make an interesting pair, i grant you that, but if you ask me, you got some apologising to do.”

“What do you mean, apologise?” Osiris snapped at the dwarf, but his heart sank. He wanted Edmond to be happy. Was he wrong about asking him to marry her?

In the arena below, Edmond fought on, receiving more blows than necessary. Osiris felt the tears welling. Each hit the human received brought pain into his heart.

“Oh, Maker! You are such a… oh, nevermind.” Varric exhaled, “my point is, just go back to him. It’s obvious how he feels about you.” As he gestured towards the arena, Edmond staggered backwards from a blow to his chest.

Osiris hissed and stood. Come on, Edmond! Stand up! It was such an obvious move. He could have blocked that with ease. The human stayed on the ground, his chest still rising and falling, but his sword rolled off from his hand.

“Run to him, kid.” said Varric chuckling, but the elf had already disappeared.

Osiris ran, down the steps two at a time, and over towards the arena. The small crowd parted in front of him, and he stopped a few steps short of where the human fell. A small elven woman was crouching before him. A Dalish mage Edmond had rescued some time ago, who had decided to remain in the Skyhold despite her obvious dislike of the shems.

“Inquisitor. He got hit in the head pretty bad. Help me move him, and I can use some healing magic.” She said.

Osiris noded, and hefted Edmond’s inert body over his shoulder. He was heavy, but Osiris gritted his teeth and managed. The small infirmary was not far, but the elf was soaked in sweat when he put the human down onto a cot.

The elven mage, Nimue, went to work immediately, hovering her faintly glowing hand over the various wounds until Edmond’s breathing changed, more restful and even. Osiris sat on a small stool next to the cot and buried his head into his hands.

“He will sleep for some time now.” said Nimue with a gentle touch on the shoulder, “I will go prepare some salves, and come back to check on him.”

“Ma Serannas, Lethallan.” said Osiris, grateful for her leaving him alone with Edmond.

He just sat there for some time, watching the sleeping form.

“Fen’harel ver na. Why did you do that?” whispered the elf, touching the side of the man’s face. He leaned down and kissed his brow.

“Mi’nas’sal’inan.” he stood and said at last, before walking out, with his heart full of sadness.

  * *Mi’nas’sal’inan. (I feel the knife once more within my soul - an elven phrase referring to a deep longing, or nostalgic longing for something that you miss terribly,  have a deep attachment to, or know you will never get back )



* * *

 

**The golden pin** (written by Sluah)

Lord Edmond Trevelyan felt his eyes begging to be shut down for just a few minutes and his body demanding some hours of rest. He closed his eyes and let his head drop slightly as his arms supported his weight on the war table, but he forced himself to stay awake. He sighed and looked at the laid out replica of adamant fortress filled with little colourful pins.

No matter how long he stared at it, he still felt something was wrong. Of all the battles he ever commanded as a general, this was the one he felt most unsure about. He had always marched confident of his incoming victory, for even the smallest skirmish would have been carefully planned and studied to the last detail. But as the hour to head out to Adamant came closer, Lord Trevelyan was assaulted by an unfamiliar feeling of cold breeze in his stomach and the beating of war drums on his heart.

For the hundredth time, he enacted the battle in his mind and he still couldn’t find better alternatives. There were so many things that could go wrong, especially when the enemy’s forces are bolstered by a demon army. For one, they could be wrong about their opponents numbers, they could be wrong about the strategy the defenders of Adamant will follow. Some squad captain could get killed and leave his men without orders. The Inquisition’s Commander could be taken down, the Inquisitor could…

Yes, that was it.

He picked up the pin that represented the Inquisitor and stared at it. A bigger golden pin, shining in the mist of smaller dull coloured ones.  Osiris would enter the fortress as soon as the gate and walls were breached and become a beacon to where the enemy’s forces would turn their attention. He closed the Osiris’ pin protectively in his hand and focused on the battle plan again.

The siege was perfect, their forces distribution and attack movement was the best possible when dealing with so many uncertainties. It was the Inquisitor’s… no, it was Osiris’ vulnerable position that made him, for the first time in his life, be afraid of an incoming battle. There was nothing he needed to change, he was being emotional where and when he needed to he analytical.

Morning was finally upon him and they would be heading out to Adamant in twenty four hours.

He turned away from the war table and walked out, his steps steady and determined. The sun had just rose, but the great hall was already crowded with several people walking in and out of the multiple doors, finishing last minute preparations. Tomorrow, at this hour, they would be marching.

He found Osiris talking to Lady Montilyet close to the throne. Edmond studied him with concern but from a respectful distance. He too looked tired and sleep deprived. This was Osiris’ first real battle, but he had no military training and hundreds of men would be looking up to him; Edmond was sure he was scared.

Lord Trevelyan approached the pair and bowed respectfully. “Your worship”, he greeted Osiris as ceremoniously and formally as he had started to since the elf decided they should be apart. True to his love’s request, never again had Edmond talked to Osiris privately or ever discussed any other business not connected to the Inquisition. He now addressed him as “Your Worship”, “Herald” or “Inquisitor” and his tone was always formal and emotionless.

“Lady Montilyet”, he bowed his head slightly.

“I’ll leave you two”, said Osiris. It was to be expected, Osiris always seemed to leave when Edmond appeared.

“Inquisitor, if you can spare a moment”, started Edmond, the words were harder to pronounce that he had anticipated, “I need to discuss something with you”.

“I…”, said Osiris, looking all around the hall for an excuse not to go.

“It’s about Adamant, Your Worship”, Edmond reassured him.

“Very well,”, the Inquisitor answered, slightly defeated.

“Please excuse us, Lady Montilyet”. Osiris followed Edmond into the war room, walking slowly a few feet behind the human. The General faced the war table a few seconds before he could find the right words. He wanted to ask if Osiris was nervous, if he felt ready. If he could just hold him close…. just for a second.

But that wasn’t his role anymore.

Edmond pointed to the first group of white pins, representing the units that would make the first move. “You know what these are, Commander Cullen already explained exactly how our attack will play out.”, his voice was calm and soft, but without any emotion. “But I want to review with you the most probable outcomes if the situation does not stand in our favour”.

“You think it will come to that?”, Osiris asked softly.

Edmond forced himself to keep his ice mask. He answered in a formal voice, but his words were honest, “I don’t know what we will face exactly and uncertainty worries me”.

He spent the next two hours review the battle plan with Osiris, covering every possibilities he could think off. “Now imagine this group falls.”, Edmond said taking a set of yellow pins off the map, “the closest support you’ll have would be those on the battlements and those on the stairs”.

“I would order these to move here, right?”, ventured the Inquisitor, his hand reaching out to a blue set of pins.

Edmond’s hand moved too and it held Osiris’ lightly. The human only meant to stop the Inquisitor from removing the markers and tell him that he should move the other set, but both froze as soon as their hands touched.

Osiris looked up to him, moved his lips but said nothing. Edmond’s ice mask melted and he stared deep into Osiris’s green eyes, still holding his hand. For a few seconds none of them moved or spoke, both fearing any movement or sound would wake them up from that stolen moment.

“Osiris, I…”. Edmond fell silent and slowly let go of the elf’s hand. He turned his back to the Inquisitor and tried regaining this composure. He breathed deeply and replied formally once again “Forgive me, your Worship. That will not happen again”.

Osiris stayed silent and Edmond continued, still with his back turned “You should have moved the other unit, Inquisitor, but that was a minor mistake.” He turned to Osiris and bowed respectfully, but avoiding his eyes. “ You are ready for whatever we’ll find. Please excuse me”.

As Edmond left the war room with fast steps, he noticed a little sting that he had been ignoring for some time in his left hand. He opened his closed fist to discover he was still holding the golden pin that marked the Inquisitor after more than two hours. And there was a small drop of blood from where the pin had pierced his skin.


	4. Here Lies the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Adamant fortress, and the events that happen after. Some light hearted fluff that happen after all the serious events.

**Nightmare** (written by Sluah)

“Go!”, ordered Osiris to his companions, as he leaned on his sword, one knee on the ground, his right hand pressing the open wound on his ribs. “Now!!”, he yelled, as Lord Trevelyan helped him to his feet.

The six companions headed to the Breach, exhausted and terrified, each tormented by the echoes of the whispers of Nightmare. Edmond had Osiris’ arm across his shoulders and was supporting his weight as they walked; the voice of the creature still pounding in his heart at each step, making him hold Osiris closer than he needed to. As Alistair and Hawke protected their rear, Varric an Solas, a few feet in front of them, had just disappeared into the green mist when the giant spider like demon descended upon them once again, blocking their way.

“Can you stand?”, Edmond asked Osiris, his eyes measuring the way between them and the breach.

“yes”, Osiris said as Edmond released him.

“It’s no more than fifty steps to the Breach.”, the warrior said as he drew his sword and shield. “One person ought to be able distract him long enough”.

“What?!”, asked Osiris, “You are not thinking of…”

“Take the Inquisitor and don’t stop!”, Edmond interrupted. He wanted to turn to Osiris and say goodbye, but he needed all his focus to hold such a demon, he could not hesitate. He was about to launch himself into battle when Osiris held his arm.

“No!!”, Osiris ordered. “Don’t you dare!”

“Inquisitor”, said Warden Alistair, “we need to clear a path”.

“Go”, said Hawke, “I’ll cover you”.

All eyes turned to the Inquisitor, as the spider like demon came closer.

 

* * *

 

**Stay with me** (written by Slugette)

Osiris sat alone in his quarters, his face buried in his hands. He shivered, despite the warmth of the fire. What happened at Adamant had shaken him to the core. He tried to compose himself as well as he could in front of others, put on the mask of the perfect leader, but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He hoped no one had noticed. Now, all alone, the pressure gone, he thought he would somehow make things ok again, but it wasn’t working. The words of the Nightmare demon rang in his head. He felt like screaming.

The measured footsteps behind alerted him of a familiar presence. He turned to see Lord Trevelyan standing, his hands casually held behind his back, with the usual air of quiet confidence. Something broke down inside Osiris then, and all he could do was to run to him, and bury his face in the man’s broad chest. The elf’s shoulders started shaking, and Edmond held him tight.

“Please, stay with me tonight.,” said Osiris. Perhaps there was some truth to what the Nightmare demon said. Perhaps he was only a plaything to the human lord after all. But held in his strong arms, the elf hardly cared, as long as he could be with him.

 

* * *

 

**A Shem and a Knife Ear** (written by Sluah)

Startled by how vulnerable Osiris seemed, Edmond held him strongly in his arms. “I will always be here”, “I will never let you go”, the human wanted to swear, but “ I won’t leave you” was all he was able to answer. He closed his eyes and rested his face against Osiris head, breathing the scent of his skin and offering his own body and warmth as comfort.

Edmond had noticed that the Inquisitor hadn’t been himself since they left Adamant, but none of those who walked the fade had been either. The demon’s voice echoed deep in each of them, showering a fear already seeded but until then locked away.

He shouldn’t hold the elf so close, he didn’t need the Nightmare demon to remind him that. He knew he was clinging to dust. Ashes to be blown away as soon as Corypheus was dead. Osiris needed comfort and support carrying the burden of Inquisitor. That was their relation, their only connection. They did not belong to the same world. After their duty was done, they were nothing.

The future Teryn and the Dalish elf. A “shem” lord and a “knife ear”. Even the demon knew that was never meant to be.

They stayed there, standing in the middle of the Inquisitor’s room in each other’s arms, embracing for what seemed like a lifetime. Gently, Edmond raised Osiris face to meet his own and kissed him tenderly on the lips. This kiss was different from all those they had shared. It was not hungry or dominant, but soft and filed with restrained emotions.

A “shem” and a “knife ear”.

As he looked deep into the elf’s green eyes, Edmond knew he did not care for Ostwick or the Lavellan clan. “Just ask it of me and I will give it all up”, his heart screamed the words he could never say as their lips met again, “Could you ever love a shem?”,

There was a defencelessness in Osiris’ eyes that Edmond had never seen before. Their kisses grew deeper, their clothes were dropped to the floor as their arms pulled each other as closer as their bodies allowed. But even pressed together they were still at a hurtful distance. Edmond laid on top of Osiris, lust fading into passion, and without their eyes ever leaving each other, they made love for the first time.

“You had to leave him behind, Osiris”, Edmond said as he caressed the elf’s naked shoulder, their bodies entangled together between the sheets . “We would all have died otherwise.”

“I know”, Osiris answered with his head on Edmond’s chest and his arm around his waist.

“But there is something else…”, Edmond started. Immediately, Osiris released him and sat on the bed. He didn’t know what to say. Or if he should say anything at all. But he need to. “The Nightmare demon….”, the elf started, but couldn’t force himself so finish.

“Whispered only lies”, said Edmond as he sat next to Osiris.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what he whispered to me”

“I know what he said to me”, answered Edmond, “and I need to believe that wasn’t the truth”.

 

* * *

  **Ma'fen** (written by Slugette)

“Too slow!” Edmond shouted, hitting the elf on the thigh with the flat of his practice sword. Osiris smacked the blade away with his own, and shifted his stance. 

 “Again!” said the human, circling his opponent. Osiris gritted his teeth and came in for another attack, this time feinting towards the left,  _Clang!_  The momentum of the strike carried the swords towards the ground, leaving an opening which the elf took, by diving in with his shoulder.

“Who is too slow, Ma’fen?” said Osiris, pinning Edmond to the ground. A smug grin on his face, so rare to see, made Edmond chuckle despite himself.

“You know that wouldn’t have worked if I had my shield.” said Edmond, trying the most serious tone he could muster and failing. 

“But you didn’t have one. Admit it, Ma’fen. You’ve lost this round.” said the elf, making motions to push himself off of the human, but Edmond pulled him closer.

“What did you mean by that anyway?” Edmond asked.

“What?”

“Ma’fen. You called me that several times.”

The colour on Osiris’ already flushed cheeks deepened. “My wolf,” he told the human, who didn’t say anything in return. Instead, he held the elf’s face as delicately as his calloused hands would allow, and kissed him, tender and gentle. Nothing like an wolf at all.

* * *

  **Cute** (written by Sluah)

Osiris slowly blinked himself back to conscience. His whole body was hurting, but he forced himself to regain his focus. He was laying down in a small clearing, somewhere in the middle of the forest in the Emerald Graves, with long trees rising all around him.

He turned his head to a rustling noise next to him. Lord Trevelyan was kneeling on the ground and apparently cursing a very poorly piled mount of twigs and dry leaves. Osiris recognized the murderous battle mode gaze Edmond used to have in his hardest battles, while he was trying to rotate a twig fast enough for the friction to start a fire.

“You’re doing it wrong”, Osiris said, smiling despite his wounds, at his lover’s frustration. Had the human Lord never lit a fire before?

Edmond turned around and approached Osiris, caressing the elf’s face lightly he said “Thank the Maker you woke up, I was beginning to worry, you’ve been unconscious for hours”.

“I’m alright, ma'fen”, smiled Osiris, enjoying the time alone with Edmond on a forest, despite the circumstances “Err, about that bonfire…”

“Well, yes, this is a little harder than I anticipated”, Edmond said, “Here, I got you something to eat. I couldn’t wander off to hunt while you were unconscious, so I got us some berries ”

Osiris almost jumped to his feet ignoring his wounds when the human passed him the berries “Creators, Edmond, have you eaten this?!”

“What? No, I was trying to lit that Maker cursed fire first”

“Well, they are poisonous!”, Osiris said relaxing.

“Really? They seemed…” But Edmond felt silent as Osiris burst out laughing. He looked from the bonfire that would never see a flame to Edmond’s choice of food. The mighty Lord Trevelyan, always used to servants to do the minor work, was defeated by a forest.

“What in our current situation do you find amusing?” Lord Edmond asked, starting to laugh too.

“You are so spoiled, ma'fen”, Osiris said still laughing.

 

 

 

* * *

 

**"I love you" -part 1**  (written by Slugette)

“Lord Trevelyan, may I have a moment with you please?”,said Josephine’s voice in between the noise of training soldiers, somewhere from behind Edmond. **  
**

He raised his eyebrow, Josephine seldom raised matters concerning the military, so what could it be? Wait, wasn’t she supposed to be having meetings with Osiris this afternoon?

“What is it?” asked Edmond, turning around to look at her.

“Lord Osiris didn’t attend the scheduled meeting with Orlaisian dignitaries this afternoon, which is not so surprising in itself, but…” said Josephine, her brows furrowing. Edmond knew from the tone of her voice that whatever it was that got her concerned was not a trivial matter. He could guess at those words she left unspoken. She was worried about him.

But Edmond simply shrugged, dismissing her concern. “With your capable hands, Lady Montiliyet, I doubt the Orlaisians would have needed the inquisitor’s attention after all.”

Josephine smiled at that. “You flatter me, my Lord, and no, they didn’t. But the Orlaisians are hardly of my concern…”

“You’re concerned about the inquisitor.”

“Yes and no…  I’ve just been to see him at his quarters, and he told me that he was just tired, and that he would be fine after some rest,” said Josephine. Of course, Osiris would have pretended nothing was wrong. Badly. Anyone, not to mention a trained bard like Josephine, would have known he was not in fact “just tired”.

“Thank you for checking on the inquisitor, “ said Edmond, mentally adding ‘also for telling me about it’, “but I am sure it is nothing to be concerned about. He is feeling under the weather, perhaps?”

Whatever crisis Osiris was having, got him worried too. He suppressed an urge to drop everything right now and run to him. But there were eyes and ears everywhere, eager to pick up any flaws or weaknesses the inquisitor might show. Edmond knew more than anyone else, that it was important to maintain the image of a perfect leader.

“You’re absolutely right, “ said Josephine. Yes, she understood that too. “Just.. let him know that I’ve taken care of all the rest of his appointments today for… health reasons. Good day to you, my Lord.” She inclined her head, maintaining the eye contact. “Go, help him,” her eyes said before she turned away.

“Lady Montiliyet?” Edmond called, making her turn around.  “Thank you.” Josephine smiled that knowing smile of hers before leaving.

                    ______________________________________

Despite the overwhelming desire to check on Osiris, Edmond made sure he finished overseeing his soldiers training, and casually made his way to the inquisitor’s quarters.

Osiris sat in the middle of the floor, staring vacantly into the crackling fire. The orange lights of the fireplace danced, making the elf’s hair glow as if each strands had been spun out of the fire themselves. As always, such visions stirred the side of him that was lying dormant for so many years. It was like a longing, a call, or almost like a thirst. These untamed emotions tormented him, making it harder to think…Focus, Edmond! He told himself, and saw… a defeated warrior.

“Did Josephine send you?” said Osiris, hugging his knees closer to himself. “I told her that I was fine.”

“Are you?” asked Edmond, his voice too accusing even in his own ears.

Osiris glanced up at him, but never met his eyes. “Yes.”

Osiris was never a good liar, Edmond thought, and he let the silence speak for him instead.

Osiris sighed finally, burying his face into his hands. “NO. I am not fine. I was about to go to the meeting with the Orlaisians, then…I-I just couldn’t. I can’t explain it, but everything suddenly seemed too much? So i… sat here.”

“Osiris…” started Edmond, but Osiris interrupted.

“I am so.. useless. Most of the time, I don’t even know what I am supposed to be doing, and have you seen the way some of them look at me? Like some kind of a hero? I ask myself. Every. Fucking. Day. What am I, without the glowing hand? I am so tired of playing along. I am just…  nothing.”

Edmond saw a young elf, crushed by the burden of command, vulnerable and alone on the pedestal they named the Herald of Andraste. He’d seen the similar picture somewhere before. Was he like this 15 years ago, commanding his first regiment into the battle?

Those eyes that looked back at him right now, of the man defeated, he’d seen them before too. More often than not, they ended up hanging from the beam by the necks with their own belts wrapped around them. No, Edmond willed his mind erase such morbid thoughts.

Osiris… he was nothing like them. He wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. There was more to him, hidden inside him, if only he could see it for himself! All he wanted was to embrace him into his arms, tell him that everything would turn out ok, but was that what the elf needed from him?

“Stand up.” Edmond commanded. “Stand up and look at me.”

Osiris did as he was told, almost like a reflex, with those green eyes fixed onto his own, questioning.

“When I see you, I see no divine hero, “ said Edmond, “but a leader, with such courage and determination. The glowing hand is just a tool, or more like a burden, which you bear without showing weakness or contempt.”

Osiris opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it again. His lips trembled, but he bit it down instead, swallowing. “I-I don’t honestly know how you see these things in me. Courage, you say? But I am scared, and i think about running. All the time! I am a coward!” he shouted.

Edmond grabbed him on the sides of his shoulders with both hands and pulled him closer, with enough force to lift him onto his toes. “But you did not run! Not after Haven! Not after confronting the demons in the fade! Maker’s breath! We are all scared, but we stay, because you’re here, against all odds! Because you have the courage to stand! ” he shouted back. Osiris’ eyes went wide like he was in shock, but they didn’t look away.

“Ma’fen?” Osiris whispered, averting his eyes finally, “why did you decide to stay? You don’t have to face all these. Unlike me, you have a choice.”

What does the elf know of such things as the choice! Edmond almost laughed to himself. He had abandoned such a thought a long time ago, when he had realised what was in his heart….

“No. I do not have such a choice,” said Edmond, raising his hand to cup the elf’s cheek gently, “because I love you.”

They say some truths have power when they are spoken for the first time. Edmond didn’t normally believe such mystic nonsense, yet this time, he saw a spark of life return to Osiris’ eyes with those words he’d spoken, and they were like jewels, more beautiful than anything in the world. He lifted the elf’s face and tasted his lips, sweet and tender, and wrapped his arms around him. Locked in the embrace, they kissed and kissed until they were breathless.

“Just as well, “ said Osiris, letting his lips curl into a smile when they finally let each other’s lips apart, “I wouldn’t have let you go anyway.”

 

 

* * *

 

**Run** (written by Slugette)

Osiris enjoyed running on the battlements. The spectacular view and the cold crisp air of the mountains seemed to clear his head. He paced himself well, but this day, he decided to put more effort into this last lap, speeding as fast as he could. 

He pumped his legs almost to their limit, with his lungs burning with each intake of breath. It was exhilarating. He went further and faster than he needed to, then he slowed down onto the steps before coming to a stop near the Herald’s rest. 

His whole body gave him an ample amount of protest, as he fought to control his breathing. He took his shirt off, soaked in sweat, and poured a bucket of cold water over himself. He wiped his face with his hands, flicking the wet hair off his face. 

Osiris did not notice a person leaning on the side of the wall in the shade, as his strong hands pulled him into an embrace. He almost yelled out, but his mouth got covered with familiar set of lips. The kiss, rough and possessive. He closed his eyes and groaned when they came apart.  

“That was impressive,” said the voice of Lord Edmond, as he started walking away. 

“Did you watch me run?” said Osiris, reaching up and touching his lips, corner of his mouth curling up ever so slightly. 

“I had a business to discuss with the bull, but yes, I caught the sight of you while you were running.” said Edmond, casually wiping the water off his face with one hand. His golden eyes sparkled as he inclined his head, “Now, if you’d like to join me in my chambers, I will ask for your breakfast to be brought in there for you.”

“I’ll go get changed first.”

“That won’t be necessary.” said the human, his voice low with a promise.

* * *

 

**Throne** (written by Sluah)

Lord Trevelyan pushed Osiris roughly into his throne and descended on his knees in front of him, devouring the elf with his wolfish eyes. "You can't be serious!", breathed the Herald as Edmond untied his trousers. Osiris clenched to the throne's arm rail and bit his lower lip as the human made him forget everything but his tongue. But just as he was about to scream, Edmond stopped. He got up, cleaned his lips with the back of his hand and smiled sadistically. "I'll wait for you in my room".

**Throne - continued** (written by Slugette)

Osiris sat on the throne, alone, panting slightly. He bit his lower lip and pulled his trousers up, covering the erection quivering near the point of release. As he pushed himself up from the throne with some difficulty, he noticed a small movement on the far back of the room, behind the drapes near the fireplace where Varric usually hangs around. There shouldn’t have been anybody here at this time of the night. An assassin? 

“Who goes there?” said Osiris, his voice echoing in the empty hall. 

“Sorry, your worship,” said a small voice, “Sister nightingale told me to keep an eye on you at all times.”

Ah, of course. Leliana’s people. Osiris sighed. He should have expected that he would have an audience. Damn you Edmond. Did he know there was someone watching?

“What is your name?” asked the Herald, his voice low.

“J-Jim, your worship.” 

“Jim. No word about this to anybody, you understand?”

“Yes. your worship.”

“Now. Leave me the fuck alone!”

He watched Leliana’s agent run out as if his feet were on fire with some satisfaction. At least that exchange lessened the pressure in his trousers somewhat.  Perhaps Edmond didn’t know. He didn’t think the proud human would have been kneeling in front of him, had he known. With that thought, he hurried towards Edmond’s chamber. The man didn’t like to be kept waiting.

 

* * *

 

**Letters - Part 1**  (written by Sluah)

9.42 Dragon, Orlais

To be delivered to Inquisitor Osiris Lavellan.

Your Worship,

First let me assure you that the idea of sending me in your place to negotiate with the chevaliers was very wise one. As we expected, they are following the unwritten Orlesian costume of showing off before starting a meeting. Being the heir to the Ostwick’s Teryn and having a vast reputation in warfare made them try to outshone my deeds with long tales of their own. So I’d say we got their attention.

Unfortunately, even amongst the finer breed of Orlesians there are those who can’t recognise the fine line between brag and insult. So I am sorry to inform that I was forced to exercise a certain level of violence towards a high born lord. It would not sit well that the Inquisition allowed their leader to be mistreated for being an elf. Also I hate racist jokes and the wine they were serving me was an insult of its own.

But as Lord Pierre du Lac laid unconscious in the courtyard, the rest of the chevaliers are giving their utmost attention to your proposal. I assume I will have their answer tomorrow. Expect me back in Skyhold in a few days.

Always at your command,

Edmond Trevelyan

**Letters - Part 2**  (written by Slugette)

Lord Trevelyan,

Although I can picture the scene as it would have played out in my head, I still wish I could have been there in person.  The face of Lord Pierre Du Lac would have been priceless to witness.  

However, the inquisition cannot have the reputation of being bullies, I cannot allow any further incident like this to happen. Since I know how futile it is to ask you for more patience, I pray to the Creators the remaining Orlaisians behave themselves for the remainder of the negotiations. 

I also didn’t fail to notice that you’re enjoying yourself somewhat, but please exercise some restraint for the inquisition’s sake.  I expect you back with a good news.

Dareth shiral,

Osiris Lavellan

**Letters - Part 3** (written by Sluah)

My Lord Inquisitor,

Sometimes the key to a successful negotiation is applying pressure at the right time; a demonstration of strength, even in the literal sense, can be as important as the most skilful diplomat. But I agree that the Inquisition came to Orlais with a proposal, not an ultimatum, and it is important it remains as such.

Even risking their disfavour, I saw no other way to respond to an insult on your name. Maybe it was a personal answer as much as an answer for the Inquisition.

Luckily for our alliance, Lord du Lac decided to throw a party tonight on behalf of the Inquisition to show he has no ill will towards our Lord Herald and that all was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Your worship commented you felt out of place at the winter palace, I expect you would feel the same here, even if it was less formal than the Grand Ball and more… typical Orlesian debauchery.

Even if I don’t agree that war strategy should be discussed over fine wine and pleasant company, the chevaliers seemed so inspired by the charms of the gracious ladies attending the feast and they decided to sign our treaty on the morning.

Your proposal was a success, I congratulate you.

I remain, as always, yours to command,

Edmond Trevelyan

**Letters - Part 4**  (written by Slugette)

The messenger stood uneasy by the door as Osiris crumpled the letter in his hand.  He knew what Edmond was playing at.  He doubted the man would have been enjoying himself at some Orlesian feast with those “gracious ladies” giggling on his lap.  He slammed the crumpled letter onto the desk, maybe a little too hard, as the messenger at the door visibly flinched.

“Am I to deliver the reply to the rookery, my worship?” The poor man ventured, obviously wanting to leave the room.    

“No, there is no need. I will see him when he returns.”  Osiris told the man, who left shortly with a relief on his face.  

Osiris sighed, rubbing his temple. His furrowed brows softened as he looked out into the snowy mountains. 

“You bastard,” he muttered to himself, “I miss you. “

 

* * *

 

**Fear** (written by Slugette)

Edmond Trevelyan was searching long and desperate, in the desert too empty, too broad. It had been half a day ago the red hart came back without her rider. What would have happened to Osiris? He wiped the sweat off his face, dread digging its claws into his thoughts.

There had been signs of struggles, but the tracks had been blown away by the wind. So he had started his aimless search. Hoping, at first, but as hours went by, fear gnawed at the hope. He scanned the sand for the hundredth time, squinting his tired eyes over nothing but sand and rocks. Ever empty. He urged his tired horse to move on.

The sun hung low, just over the horizon, when he spotted something in the distance. A blotch of red on the sand. He went closer. Close enough to make out the sand covered body, red hair blowing in the desert wind.

He was frozen on the spot, cold shivers running down his spine despite the heat of the desert. He yelled out his name, but it sounded guttural and unintelligible. He hopped off the horse, tried to run forward, tried to stop his knees from buckling underneath him, though his heart screamed it was too late. Maker please, the heart be wrong!

Fear gripped him from a deep dark place inside. Crippling. He held his breath when he finally clutched at the body. Still warm. A wave of relief washed over him.

As he brushed the sand away from the elf’s face, he felt wisp of a breath from his dry cracked lips. He cried then, shoulders shaking, hot tears soaking into his dry skin. The empty desert had no eyes or ears, so it may not have happened at all, for it was known that Lord Trevelyan, the great general, the hero of many battles, never cried.

 

* * *

 

**This is all your fault!** (written by Slugette) featuring **Harry the Kitten**

** **

“Look at what you’ve done,” Osiris said, scratching the kitten’s head, “you are in so much trouble, my little friend.” 

He smiled, surveying the impressive wreckage the tiny kitten had created on the war table, feeling strangely more proud than annoyed. 

He prised a small figurine that represented one of the inquisitions outposts from the kitten’s paws. Harry batted at it, tiny claws out, his tails swishing, and the sparkling eyes following the thing with such playful intensity. “Oh no you don’t! I will see if i can fix this before anyone else gets here, ” he said, picking up other fallen down figures. 

Suddenly the door opened. “What in the Maker’s…” said the voice behind the elf. 

“This is all your fault. Hide, Harry!” Osiris whispered to the kitten before turning around to see, ”Edmond! You’re.. early.” 

Edmond’s eyes scanned the war table, and looked at Osiris, and the war table again. Disapproval evident. Osiris could have sworn the temperature in the silent war room had just dropped by a few degrees.

“I-I can fix it!” ventured the elf breaking the icy silence. He knew not what kind of murderous thought was going into the human’s head, and worried for the kitten’s safety.

Osiris’s heart sank as the loud purring noise announced the kitten’s whereabouts. He sighed. The hapless kitten was enthusiastically rubbing his head against Edmond’s boots. The human bent down, and picked up the kitten by its scruff, raising it up so it’s level with his nose. 

The golden eyes met the blue of the kitten.

The purring intensified.

Edmond’s lips curled back, showing teeth. The elf swallowed. 

Then Edmond started laughing, putting the kitten gently down on the war table. It was an infectious kind of laugh, full of mirth, and Osiris found himself joining in.

“What’s so funny?” asked the elf, finally.

“Your face! What did you think I’d do to the kitten?” 

“Oh I don’t know. Eat it?” 

“Besides, check out the destruction it unleashed on all of Thedas! I am impressed.” said Edmond, putting the markers back in their rightful places.

“Not all. Harry left this part of Ferelden largely untouched.”

“Strategically sound decision indeed. Nothing valuable in that region to focus any efforts…”   

While they continued their mock discussion on various strategical merits of the destruction it had caused, Harry the kitten found a sunny spot on the table, and cleaned himself half-heartedly, before blinking his eyes shut. Peace at last. 

 

* * *

 

**I thought you were different!** (written by Sluah) featuring **Lenore Trevelyan**

“We’ll discuss it more over dinner”, Lord Trevelyan said as he kissed his daughter’s forehead before climbing to his horse.

Young lady Lenore watched Lord Trevelyan ride out of Skyhold’s majestic gates. This was the same image she saw countless times in Ostwick before she went to the circle. Back then, she used to stay by the window watching her father become a small dot at a distance until one of the servants came to get her. “Your Lord father will be back soon, my Lady”, they would tell her. “When?”, she would ask eagerly.

But then one day, her father took her to the Cicle of Magi and rode off. Again, Lady Lenore sat at the window looking at her father shrinking in the distance; but no one came to reassure her he would return. She sat by that unfamiliar window for days, because surely she would see her father return soon. But he didn’t.

This time, however, Lenore was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even noticed her father looking back to her as he always did. Not that it would have mattered, she no longer cared if he would return. Or so she told herself and, specially, she told her father.

When word reached Ostwick that Lord Trevelyan had sent for her, Lenore was expecting everything other than the conversation they had just had. No matter how much she tried, Lady Trevelyan still couldn’t decide which part had left her more taken back. If it the news that her father had a male lover, if the fact that the male lover was an elf or that her Lord father had actually said he words “I’m in love with him”.

She rolled her eyes at the thought, while she slid gracefully across Skyhold’s courtyard, with her long pale blue dress slightly sweeping behind her, and asked to be directed to the Lord Inquisitor.

Of all the ideas young Lenore was forming on her mind, a muscled, sweaty red haired elf, sword practicing while on his bare chest was not one of them.

She stopped on her tracks. She had to be mistaken. “Forgive me”, she asked politely to the first person who passed her, “ _That_ ’s the Inquisitor?”

“Yes, my lady”, a guard answered the frail richly dressed lady, slightly curious at who she was.

She approached the Inquisitor cautiously. Her eyes counting his abs before swiping his strong chest and his long muscled arms. “No way!”, she thought.

This elf was not the beautiful, vulnerable, blushing male elf she had been imagining protected in her father’s arms, with his long red hair dancing on the wind, while they embraced romantically on a balcony in the moonlight.

No, this was the type of man she always giggled about with her friends! _This_  was her father’s lover?! There really was no justice in the world! “Oh Maker, no! He is too hot!”, Lenore whispered to herself.

Osiris stopped hitting the training dummy and turned his attention to the human lady staring at him.

“You’re the Inquisitor?”, she decided to ask again just to be sure. She still couldn’t believe her father was actually sleeping with someone who looked like that.

“Who’s asking?”, answered Osiris, slightly bad mannered, upset to he stared at during his training.

“Lenore Trevelyan”, the young lady said, bowing perfectly and smiling like an Orleisian portrait .

“Oh.. Lenore!”, said Osiris taken back. He immediately grabbed his shirt and tried to make himself look presentable. “Sorry. Er.. you really don’t look much like your father”.

Lenore had been hearing that since she could remember. While Lord Edmond was tall and strongly built, she was slender and a little shorter than young women her age. She had her mother’s blue eyes and her pearl white skin; and of Edmond, Osiris could only see her raven hair.

“I thought you were different too”, She laughed, sweet and harmonious, “but please, you don’t need to stop your training, we can talk while you practice”. She giggled and Osiris tried desperately not to blush. She knew, of course, she shouldn’t be looking at her father’ lover like that, but Lenore felt she was hardly to blame. No one warned her that he looked this good.

“No. I… ”, Osiris really wasn’t expecting to meet her without Edmond, “that wouldn’t be proper…”

“Proper?”, lady Lenore laughed, her tone was much less lady-like than it was seconds ago,  "you are sleeping with my father and I’m staring at your half naked body, while you are all breathless and sweaty. I think we can leave the proper part out".

Osiris opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t knew what to say. “Damn it, Edmond, where are you?”, he thought.

Lady Lenore took the Inquisitor’s arm and pulled him for a stroll. “So”, she began once again, “ you and my father… How did that happened?”

“Well….”, Osiris was sure that story would not be the best way to present himself to his lover’s daughter, “… didn’t Edmond told you? We… err…”

Lenore laughed again. “It’s complicated, I see”, she winked at him and asked with a shine of mischief in her blue eyes “or is it a tale that it’s not “proper” for you to tell me?“

“No, it’s just that….” started Osiris.

“I thought so”, she interrupted disappointed, “my father’s too boring for that”.

Osiris laughed nervously as hundreds of not-at-all-boring memories began to tease his memory. He tried to change the subject. “So how to you like Skyhold?”

“It’s nice. Do you love my father?”, she asked

“I…”, Osiris started. Why did she have to make all this questions? And wasn’t he supposed to meet her together with Edmond?

“So you  _don’t_  love him?”, Lenore asked slightly inclining her head at his hesitation, her tone still sweet, but her blue eyes were shining with the same teasing glow Osiris was used to see on Edmond’s yellow ones.

“No!”, snapped Osiris “I..”

“No?”,

“That’s not what I meant”, said Osiris, “I just…”

She laughed again; a sarcastic, almost cruel laugher. “You would prefer him here with us? You think I would be nicer?”

Osiris changed his mind, she did look like her father.

“I was expecting to meet you later with him, yes”, answered Osiris, his voice slightly more honest than he expected.

“But then I wouldn’t really get to know you, would I?”, she asked with the expression of a child who intentionally misbehaved, “He would just do everything his way”.

“I’m sure he would”, answered Osiris, smiling a little, “Edmond does tend to do that”.

She stopped and sat in one the garden’s benches and tapped the seat next to her, inviting the Inquisitor to join.

“How is this going to work, then?”, she asked as Osiris sat down obediently, “you become my new evil step mother now?”

“Your what?”, asked Osiris.

“Don’t you have evil step mothers in the Dalish?”

“I suspect some step mothers are evil but the whole clan would intervene if…” Osiris stopped as Lady Trevelyan chuckled.

“You are adorable, did you know that?”, she said and Osiris face exploded redder than his hair. “My father told me Master Tethras is here in the Inquisition, you can ask him about evil step mothers. He has the perfect one in sword and shields!”

“You like Varric’s books, then?”, Osiris asked a bit frightfully, but trying desperately to change the subject once again.

“Oh Maker, yes!”, Lenore answered. And to Osiris’ surprise, her gaze soften from its provocative stance to an air of utter enthusiasm. “I just died with the Tale of the champion.”, she added, “have you read it yet?”.

Clearly Osiris chose a good subject because Lenore spent the next half an hour talking about her favourite parts and quoting characters. Osiris smiled as they chatted, Lenore really was no different from any Dalish young girl talking about something she enjoyed.

“And I am so dying to know what happens to the knight captain! You must introduce me to Master Tethras”, she begged already completely at ease with Osiris, “I have so much to ask him”.

“Of course, whenever you like”.

A guard approached them and bowed to the Inquisitor and to the young lady next to him. “Pardon me, your Grace, Lady Montilyet asks to speak to you when you have the time”.

Osiris stood up and looked to Lenore “Do you mind?”

“Not at all”, she answered as she too got to her feet. Before Osiris walked away, however, he pulled him by the arm, making him bend just enough for her to reach his face, and kissed him on the cheek.

“I really liked meeting you, Osiris”, she smiled at his surprised expression, “Oh! Don’t tell my father we’ve already talked. I’m curious to see what he has planned for us this evening”. She grinned mischievous and blinked at him before bowing and walking away.

Lenore Trevelyan 

 

* * *

 

**Sick** (written by Slugette)

“So, it is true.” said Osiris walking towards the bed, which was occupied despite it being the mid-afternoon. Thick drapes covered the windows, but the room still felt light and airy, beams of sunlight peeking through the fluttering fabric. He put down the tray containing a steaming teapot, which was slowly filling the room with its rather pungent aroma.

The man in the bed groaned and turned away from the elf, mumbling something unintelligible.

“I heard a rumor that the mighty general of Ostwick had fallen. I had to see with my own eyes to believe it.” Osiris said, sitting down on a large armchair by the bed, with a small grin that matched the teasing tone of his voice.

“Go away, “ a muffled sound, hoarse and slightly nasal, came from somewhere under the big mound of blankets.

The elf’s brows furrowed. “Creators! You sound terrible. Are you… ok?” He leaned in, and met with the yellow eyes rimmed with pink, accentuated by dark circles around them. Osiris touched the forehead, brushing away a few strands of dark hair. It was burning up.

“Ma’fen, you should have told me if you were feeling this unwell!” said Osiris. His worried tone carried a hint of accusation. Rightly so, because judging by his condition, it was obvious the man was coming down with this sickness for a few days at least. How was he even standing this very morning?

“It’s not a big deal, “ said Edmond and closed his eyes, “I will be ok after a little rest.”

“Sure, but I am staying, in case you need something. Did you even see a healer?” Osiris stood, looking around the room. Maybe he could find a bit of cloth to wipe his brows… then he saw something, big and white, flying towards him in the edge of his vision. He caught it without even looking at the thing.

“Is this all you can do, Ma'fen? A pillow? You’ll have to do better if you want to get rid of me.” Osiris laughed and put the pillow down, laying himself on it next to Edmond.

“Maker! Osiris, just let me sleep! Just… go do the Inquisition things! I’m sure Thedas needs its Herald for something… anything!” Edmond sighed, annoyance evident in his husky voice, yet the lines around his eyes softened when the elf’s arms wrapped around his body.

“Thedas can wait,” Osiris whispered, nudging his body in closer to the one hot with fever.

“Get off me, or you’re going to get sick too.” Edmond protested, turning himself to face the elf. Only half-heartedly, Osiris thought, for he didn’t push him away.

“I never get sick,” Osiris said, touching Edmond’s cheek. “Just let me stay with you, please?” He added softly. Edmond groaned, rolled his eyes and closed them again, but the corner of his mouth tucked up into a smile.

_____________________

Perhaps it was the fever that made him weak, or it was those puppy green eyes that stripped him of all defences. But, it pleased Edmond that Osiris didn’t listen. Maybe it was selfish of him to risk giving him the sickness, yet he didn’t enjoy the thought of having to suffer through this alone, like he had done countless times before.

Edmond drifted to sleep with a smile on his face, despite the fever aches, while Osiris sang an elven tune that sounded like a lullaby. It was almost worth the pungent smelling Dalish concoction the elf will no doubt make him drink… Almost.

 

* * *

 

**"I love you" - part 2** (written by Slugette)

Osiris opened his eyes. The world was still covered in the pre-dawn darkness, just stirring from its sleep, cold and shivering mostly likely. He pulled his feather stuffed blankets closer to his naked body. Such comforts! Strange how easily he got used to things like this. Not that he was complaining, specially in the cold morning like this. **  
**

Awake with no hope of going back to sleep, he contemplated getting up. It meant finishing his morning routines earlier than usual, he supposed, but the coldness of the air quickly made him abandon such thoughts. With barely an audible sigh, he buried his nose further into the blankets, and nuzzled into the warmth of the body sleeping next to him.

Strange indeed, how easily he got used to things like this. He lifted his head up slightly to look fondly at the man.

As far as Osiris could tell, Edmond was still sound asleep, with his breathing soft and even. The elf carefully put his arm over him, resting his hand onto the hard muscled chest. So warm. He ran his hand very lightly over the chest hair, savouring the feel which, again, he’d easily grown used to.

He stayed like that, blissed in comfort, in somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, until the dawn’s first light tinted the world with its rosy promises. Time to start the day. He reluctantly put his hand away from the warmth of Edmond’s broad chest.

“I love you, ma’fen,” he whispered toward the sleeping man and carefully started peeling the blanket off himself, bracing himself before rolling out from the bed.

When he was about sit up, however, a strong hand grabbed his wrist. Osiris almost yelped.

“Say that again,“ said Edmond. Surely, he wasn’t awake all this time, was he?

“Sorry if I woke you up…” started Osiris, turning to look at the man.

“No, that’s not it,” said Edmond, not even bothering to open his eyes, but the elf felt the grip on his wrist tighten slightly.

“I said…” Osiris hesitated, feeling the heat spread over his face, while Edmond waited patiently, his eyes still closed. “I love you, ma’fen,” he said finally, perhaps a little more quickly and louder than the first time.

“Good,” said Edmond, letting go of Osiris’ wrist.

“Good?” Osiris raised his eyebrow. It wasn’t exactly the answer he expected. Actually, he wasn’t even sure what he expected the man to say. Perhaps just ‘I love you too’ would have been nice?

Edmond chuckled. “You haven’t said that to me before today. Not in those words, anyway. I had to check to see it wasn’t a dream.”

“Uhh.. I didn’t realise. Did I really not say.. those words? “

“I see… Now I’m even more glad for making you repeat it.” Edmond teased. “It shall be many more months before I can hear those words come out of your mouth again.”

“Well, you’re wrong, “ said Osiris rolling his eyes. He sat up, finally ready to start the day. “I can say that again, right now.”

But before he even finished the last word, Edmond pulled Osiris towards him with a one smooth motion. Osiris gasped, suddenly pinned underneath the larger man. He felt the weight and heat of Edmond’s body, as well as his unmistakable arousal, trapped between their stomachs.

Edmond smiled wickedly, their faces only inches apart. “Say it then.”

“I love you,” said Osiris before his wolf took his lips, hungrily, as if he wanted to devour those very words.

 

 

* * *

[Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol](https://youtu.be/NINe6ZCRgBQ) (inspiration for this chapter, and the art inspired by this song)


	5. What Pride had Wrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events at Temple of Mythal.

Nothing here yet.. but we will be writing some soon!!! :)


	6. Doom upon all the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle with Corypheus.

 

**"My Soul"**  (written by Sluah) 

For generations to come, bards will sing of the moment when the Lord Inquisitor lead his companions bravely against the one who would claim the seat of the Maker, how the light of Andraste’s grace shone bright in his eyes and how his presence alone was enough to fill with courage those who followed him into battle.

As the large breach that scorched the sky green spread across the night like a festering wound, the hearts of the armoured group speeding toward the valley of sacred ashes pounded louder than their mount’s hooves.

The cold air slit Edmond Trevelyan’s uncovered face, but his determination was absolute. He would follow the Inquisitor to his death if needed. He had followed him into the abyss, now he would follow him in their final battle. Because Thedas depended on him, because he had learned to trust and respect him.

Because he loved him.

Dressed in a dark heavy armor, fit for a king, but designed to strike fear in any enemy; sculpted and bred as a warlord, Lord Trevelyan dismounted silently as soon as they reached the grim ruins that had once held the holy ashes of the Maker’s bride and were now to set the stage for the final battle between her champion and the false god. 

Anticipation shone in the different colours of his companions’ eyes as they too climbed off their mounts. Edmond gave a quick glance towards Dorian and the necromancer, his unlikely but closest friend, met his gaze with a nod.

This was it. Tonight the battle to write history was to be held. 

Before they headed out, however, Edmond held Osiris’ arm. There was no urgent business, nor any words that needed to be spoken now or regretted later. They had said their goodbyes and encouragements back in Skyhold. But if this could be the last time Lord Trevelyan looked upon his lover, he needed to lose himself in his green eyes one more time. Edmond took his gauntleted hand gently to Osiris’ cheek before leaning in to kiss his lips. A tender, fast kiss, before they headed into uncertainty. 

“Ma’fen?”, Osiris whispered softly. Fear and doubt already starting to cloud the resolve and courage in the elf’s eyes. 

Edmond leaned his forehead against Osiris, just for mere seconds, and whispered “I love you, my soul”. 

Osiris lifted his green eyes to meet Edmond’s and the human was sure they burned brighter than the breach. “My soul?” Osiris asked, as his lips slowly curved into a restrained smile. 

Before Edmond could answer, the screams of the soldiers already in the valley echoed through the desolated ruins. The battle had begun.  “Please stay behind me this time” Edmond said as he unsheathed his sword and readied his shield. 

“Don’t count on that, ma vhenan” Osiris answered taking his hand to the large sword on his back.

 


	7. Post Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events that happen after the defeat of Corypheus.

 

 **Torn** (written by Sluah)

Lord Edmond woke up lazily that morning. The sun had just rose and a young light was filling the Inquisitor’s room as Edmond turned his head from the window to Osiris’ sleeping form. He smiled and closed his eyes, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

He wished could pretend, for just one more day, that there wasn’t a deadline. Corypheus was gone for three weeks now and there was only so much Edmond could do to disregard his orders to go back to Ostwick.

He embraced Osiris from behind and kissed his neck until the elf woke. “Good morning”, Edmond whispered while he kept kissing him, down his back now. Osiris arched his back slightly while he answered “ ‘morning”.

As they laid on each other’s arms, Edmond knew it was past time he told Osiris about his orders to return home. He breathed deeply, trying to conjure the right words and Osiris rose his head from Edmond’s chest and lifted an eyebrow.

“I got a letter from the Teryn of Ostwick a few days ago”, Edmond started as he sat on the bed. “He summons me and our soldiers back now that the war with Corypheus is over”.

“So, you’re leaving”, Osiris said as he got out of the bed and walked to the balcony.

“I don’t know”, answered the Edmond. He got up and embraced Osiris’ naked body from behind, resting his head against the elf’s. “I can’t stay”, he whispered, “but I can’t leave either”

 

* * *

**Goodbye** (written by Slugette)

It was time for a farewell for the people gathered in the courtyard. 

“Goodbye, ma'fen,” said Osiris, his eyes fixed intensely upon the figure on a horse, as if he was trying to commit each and every feature of the man into his memory.

“I won’t be long. I swear,” said Edmond, reaching down and stroking the side of elf’s face, his gaze soft but sad.

“I don’t want you to make any trouble with the Teyrn for my sake.”

“Since when did I NOT make trouble with my brother,” Edmond chuckled and added, “Trust me. I will be back before you realise.”

Osiris’ lips curled into a smile, but it never reached his eyes. “Go now then. I hate long goodbyes.”

Edmond nodded. “Take care, Osiris.” His eyes held the elf a moment longer before spurring his horse forward, joining the rest of his people for a journey back to Ostwick.

“Dareth shiral, Edmond,” whispered the elf watching the troop march out.

Thus, the lovers parted, without any ceremony, nor any passionate teary kisses. Such was their way. 

A keen observer might have noticed some moisture in the eyes of the elf who took a brisk step back into the main hall, or the tension around the shoulders of the rider who departed through the gate. 

 

* * *

 

 **Letter** (written by Slugette)

To be delivered to Lord Edmond Trevelyan of Ostwick.

Ma'fen,

I realised that with all these time spent with you, I must have grown accustomed to your presence. Every time I stop and look around, your abscence feels like a blow to my guts. I try to keep myself busy, but the things I do, seem superficial, and small. Everyday, I wonder what function I serve being here.

I am sorry it all sounds depressing. All things seem to worry me, perhaps somwhat beyond reason. I decided that I must focus on closing the remaining rifts. With all the rifts gone, perhaps I could move on. Find a purpose for myself elsewhere.

Hope your time in Ostwick is treating you well. Would I be able to see you soon?

Miss you, ma'fen, but don’t you worry about me.

All is well.

Osiris Lavellan

 

* * *

 

 **Delays** (written by Sluah)

Edmond Trevelyan re-read Osiris’ letter for the fifth time, sitting at his desk on his palace like manor at Ostwick, and every word carved his longing deeper into his heart.

Early that day, Teryn Tristan Trevelyan had informed Edmond that he already dispatched Messere Gregorius Stannard as Ostwick’s new emissary to the Inquisition. His Lord Brother considered it would be in Ostwick’s best interest that it’s general and heir would remain as the city’s guardian and champion.

“Surely the Inquisitor can manage without your… services”. The Teryn savoured every word as he spoke them, each carefully planned to be applied as a hard lash.

Lord Tristan must have been through a terrible conflict, Edmond was sure. On the one hand, no state was as dear to the Inquisitor as it was Ostwick; on the other hand, Ostwick’s face was not his own, but his younger brother. The Inquisitor’s favour was perhaps more valuable than his whole army but it would sit behind the heir, not the ruler.

Ostwick’s greatest ally, that now made the city-state shine above all other on the Free Marches, was a threat to the Teryn as much as it was his crown of glory. If Edmond planned to overthrow him, how could Tristan ever stop his brother if he had the might of the Inquisition at his side?

The Teryn needed someone he could trust to be his voice in the Inquisition, but someone who would not hide him under his shadow. His brother would remain in Ostwick, leading Tristan’s army but, as he clearly had forgotten, as much a servant of the Teryn as everyone else on Ostwick.

“You do know the penalty for deserters, brother”, came Tristan reply to a thought Edmond was sure he was hiding, “How far does your elf’s arm reaches?”.

Edmond read Osiris’ letter once again. “Don’t worry about me”, Osiris wrote, “All is well”. He could read the words as if they had been chiseled in his own heart.

“Do consider where your loyalties lay”, Lord Tristan had said before dismissing his general.

“Of my loyalties, my Lord Teryn, I have no doubt”, Edmond had answered as he bowed.

He picked up the white piece of paper.

 

Osiris,

Having arrived recently I feel I am already too long away from home. Usually home meant Ostwick, but my year at your side changed that. Now home means the mountains around skyhold and the view from your balcony. But mostly, home means you.

Alas, I must consider my stay here a necessary inconvenience. Local politics dictate that my time in Ostwick becomes longer than I anticipated, but as a new emissary was dispatched and will, unfortunately arrive before I do, I fear the time has come for me to take my persuasion a bit further.

My love, nothing you do is meaningless or without purpose. The Inquisition remains a bastion of hope and strength throughout Thedas and you are its heart and soul. Corypheus is defeated, yes, and the Inquisition’s task is done. But was he the only threat? All across the land people look up to the Inquisition for guidance and help.

But you are not bound to this burden, nor are you a slave to the Inquisition. If you feel your path reaches elsewhere, so it will. I ask only that you wait for me so we can discuss this further when I arrive.

Please forgive my lateness and I promise you I will not delay much longer.

Edmond

 

Lord Trevelyan folded the letter to Osiris and breathed deeply. Then he picked up eight more papers, one for each of the other Lords of the Free Marches, and he wrote eight more letters.

He called eight of his most trusted men, one at a time, and to each he entrusted a secret mission. They were to take a letter to each of the leaders of the Free Marches and invite them to a meeting.

“And thus the games begin, brother.”

 

* * *

 

 **Letter** (written by Slugette)

To be delivered to Lord Edmond Trevelyan of Ostwick.

Ma'fen,

You’re right of course. I doubt myself constantly, letting my insecurities take over the better judgement. Your words give me strength, as always. 

I must admit, when the riders arrived earlier this week bearing the banners of Ostwick, I could not hide my disappointment when I saw it was not you at the head of the group. Ser Stannard had been treated with respect. although I couldn’t help but feel a degree of mockery and contempt, which I hope was all in my head.

I believe you when you say you’d be back, but please do not put yourself in harm’s way doing so. If it takes time, so be it. I would rather see you late, than have you bear the wrath of your Teyrn. I can’t help but worry what method of “persuasion” you’re thinking of applying.

I miss you, ma’fen. You’re my home as well as I yours. It feels empty without you here. 

Osiris.

p.s. Harry decided to keep me company by sleeping on your side of the bed every night.

Also, I take back what I said earlier in the letter. Stannard is a total dick. I am trying to avoid him for now, but do you think Ostwick would take it as an insult if I punched him in the face?

 

* * *

 **Demand of the Teyrn - Part** 1 (written by Sluah)

Josephine’s expression bore the solemnity of an anxious prophet as she handed a letter and a package to the Lord Inquisitor. “It’s from the Teyrn of Ostwick”, she informed as she exchanged a worried look with Lord Trevelyan.

“From my brother?”, Edmond asked, slightly surprised. He had, in fact, been anticipating what his brother’s next move would be. After his Lord Teyrn refused to send him back to the Inquisition, Edmond felt he had no choice but to take their perpetual game of chess one step further.

He had invited the remaining Lords of the Free Marches to a meeting; and to each he presented the proposal of sending one single emissary to the Inquisition on behalf of the Free Marches. Instead of nine diplomats that would quarrel one another more than they would those from Orlais or Ferelden, Edmond suggested they named the Inquisitor’s lover their voice in the Inquisition. The influence of the nine states combined was sure to weigh as much as any other nation and they would have the advantage of bearing the Herald’s favour.

Osiris opened the letter and within seconds his green eyes burned red with wrath. “He’s holding my clan prisoner?!”, he yelled, the voice echoing his anger. The Teyrn accused the Inquisition of harbouring an enemy of the State of Ostwick, and his response to what he considered an act of war was to held the Lavellan clan hostage until the traitor is delivered.

Edmond cursed his own stupidity. He was counting on his brother continuing the game and to undermine his allies, not to take a military action. It was too uncalled for.

“He’s doing what?”, asked Commander Cullen looking from Osiris to Edmond.

Osiris threw the letter onto the war table. While Edmond picked it up and began to read it, he ripped open the package. As soon as he saw what Teyrn had sent him, all the colour drained from his face.

A severed elven ear.

Osiris held onto it, staring with his eyes full of horror , yet unable to look away. His mouth opened, as if to scream, but no sound came out but a desperate gasps for air. His legs seemed to buckle underneath him as he collapsed onto his knees, still clutching at the thing in his hand.

Edmond immediately ran to Osiris and kneeled in front of him. Osiris looked at his lover,  his eyes wide, his lips parted and trembling. Edmond picked the ear from Osiris hands and gently placed it on the war table next to them, ignoring the shocked gasps from everyone else in the room. Then he pulled Osiris close and embraced him. Words were no longer needed between them, Edmond knew what he meant to say. Osiris clung to his lover and buried his face on the human’s chest. He didn’t care about his advisors, who were as taken back with the Inquisitor’s break down as they were with the Teyrn’s cruelty; Osiris just wanted to be able scream and fill the silence.

“They’ll be alright, my love” Edmond whispered softly as he held Osiris tightly in his arms, “I promise”.

Hours later, Osiris was still silent, enveloped in his lover’s embrace, shuddering, as they both lay on the Inquisitor’s chambers, waiting for the sleeping potion Osiris had been given to finally allow the elf to rest.

Edmond wanted to apologise, to beg Osiris’ forgiveness. It had been his arrogance and his bad judgment that had endangered Osiris’ clan. He always assumed himself in control, a master tactician playing the chess pieces as he saw fit, expecting the world to dance to his tune. But this time he had made a mistake, he had underestimated his brother’s paranoia and did not foresee his reaction. His miscalculation had prevented him from realizing that his brother would rather show his true colours than risking the Inquisition rallying the Free Marches under Edmond’s banner.

Tristan had made sure they couldn’t waste time asking for the Divine to intervene or to call out allies to apply pressure. The longer the wait, the more elves would be maimed, that message was clear. The Inquisition was left with few options: One, they could go to war and attack Ostwick directly, and by raising arms against the ruler of a free state, all other nations would rethink their alliances with them. Two they could leave the Lavellan clan to its luck, which shouldn’t even count as an option. Or, three, they could accept the Teyrn’s terms and have Edmond delivered to Ostwick.

No subterfuge or strategic measures this time, just a decision.

As sleep claimed Osiris, Edmond allowed himself to embrace him just for a little while longer, just enough for him to memorise the warmth of his body and the beating of elf’s heart against his.

Finally, Edmond let go of Osiris and gently placed him on the bed. He knew the elf would be furious he made the decision for him and that he left without saying goodbye. But Edmond would never allow Osiris to carry the burden of such a choice, his decision was made the second he saw the elf’s ear.  He caressed a lock of hair out of his lover’s face, leaned in and kissed Osiris softly on the lips and whispered “I love you” one last time. “Please forgive me”. One more kiss and Edmond murmured “goodbye”.

He got up and quietly picked up his sword and shield and placed them on Osiris’ desk. And then, he left Skyhold without looking back.

* * *

 

 **Demand of the Teyrn - Part 2** (written by Slugette)

Osiris struggled as strong hands seized his arms and pushed him into a kneeling position. His hands were tied behind his back, ropes digging painfully into his wrists. A shem wearing a dark armor laughed and pulled out a knife from its sheath. The blade glinted. With cold shivers running down the spine, Osiris realised what was about to happen.

“No, no, no. Please, not that.” he whimpered, shaking his head, trying to shift away from the knife as much as he could. “Please,” he sobbed.

The shem reached with the  other hand and grabbed his ear. Osiris squirmed against the bonds, his eyes fixed on the blade , wide with fear and wet with tears.  

The knife went up, just above his ear. “Please no!” he begged.

Time slowed to a standstill for a few heartbeats, and the wicked blade came down impossibly fast.

Osiris screamed, and he woke on his bed, with sweat soaked sheets clinging to his clammy skin. He shuddered, his hands rubbing his ears for assurance, his heart thumping too loud inside his chest. Only a nightmare. He should have been relieved by the thought, but the terror remained.

His eyes, still holding the remnants of the horror thanks to the nightmare, seeked the only comfort he knew.

“Ma’fen?”, he called out. No answer. He wrapped his arms around himself, remembering the embrace they shared before the sleeping potion brought him the oblivion.

He stood, despite his  head spinning in protest. Where was Edmond?  They  had to plan the course of action. Edmond would know the way to save his clan. He always did, and he had promised.

Something on his desk gleamed, reflecting the sunlight into his face.  Osiris’ heart sank when he realised what those were, Edmond’s sword and the shield.  “No, “ he breathed out the words, because he knew what those meant. No warrior would leave  his weapons behind, unless…

Osiris ran down the steps as fast as he could. Perhaps it was not too late. He could still catch up. It didn’t take him long to reach Josephine’s office. He burst in to find her scratching her quill furiously onto a piece of parchment.

“Edmond. Where is he?” said the inquisitor, trying to catch his breath.

“H-he left, “ said Josephine, her eyes wide at the intrusion, “We think he headed to Ostwick.”

“When?” said Osiris, raising his voice without realising.

“The soldier at the gate reported seeing him leaving yesterday.” she said, her voice calm despite the concerned look on her face.  

“I should go and bring him back.” he said and turned to leave.

“My lord. Stop,” said Josephine, standing up. “It’s been a day since he left. You’ll never catch up.” She paused,  walked around her desk and put her hand on Osiris’s arm. The warmth of her touch took some of the anxiety away, and he listened as she continued, “I am sure following him is not what he would want. It is a noble thing he did. He’d save your clan.”

“At what cost? They will kill him!” Osiris yelled, and swallowed a lump in his throat. He took a deep breath and said, “I can’t let him play  the hero this time. I won’t!” There was determination, mixed with desperation in his voice, and Josephine sighed, her eyes damp with tears.

Uneasy silence filled the room.

“I would do anything,” Osiris whispered after a while, deflated of all anger, leaving nothing but sorrow and resignation, “I can’t lose him, Josephine.”

She looked into his eyes, and he wondered what she found there. Osiris  knew he never acted this way before, not even at the final battle with Corypheus. How pathetic! His shoulders sagged like the one defeated, without hope. He looked at Josephine, pleading for an answer, any answer, for he had none of his own. Her returned gaze was that of sympathy, but then, her eyes seemed to harden with an unknown resolve.

“I may.. have a way, but there are too many risks.” she said finally. 

 

* * *

 **The Trial - Part 1** (written by Sluah)

A week later, Tristan Trevelyan, Teyrn of Ostwick, walked down the stairs to the cells, enjoying each step as a march to victory. Long had he been waiting for an opportunity to deliver the finishing blow to his oldest adversary and now Edmond, as a good general, had delivered him that triumph.

His younger brother, as he anticipated, had already been prepared to receive him. Edmond was seated in a chair, with his hands tied behind his back.  "Dear brother", Tristan started, stopping next to the bars, his voice calm and low, “what did you get yourself into?”

“You tell me”, Edmond answered, staring his brother’s brown eyes with his yellow ones, “what are you accusing me of?”

Teyrn Trevelyan nodded to one of the guards to open the cell door. “Treason. Conspiracy to commit murder. Plotting to usurp the throne of Ostwick” he answered while entering the cell. “I imagine the look on father’s face if he could see you now, Edmond”. the Teyrn continued as Edmond smiled sarcastically, for he too could imagine the look of utter disapproval on his father face. “Has the Inquisitor cast you out or you decided to be the hero?”

“What’s your guess?”

“My guess is that you came running to cast yourself at my feet the moment I applied some pressure on your knife ear.”, Tristan smiled, “For such a renowned warrior, brother, you have a breach in your armour the size of an entire clan”.

“Is the Lavellan clan safe?”

“You became so pathetic!”, Tristan sighed as he shook his head, “Yes, they were set free the moment you turned yourself in. I have no more use for them”.

“And I am still with my head on my shoulders because you want to put on a show for the other states”, Edmond said with a casual tone, “I am to be judged and sentenced publicly, of course”.

“Yes,” the Teyrn answered in the same casual tone, “but you’ll be sentenced to hanging, not beheading. I’ll strip you off you title first, of course, then you’ll hang.” He paused and smiled. “And then, if you are curious, we’ll bury you in a common grave. The Trevelyan graveyard is for family alone, after all.”

Tristan’s smile started to die out on his lips as Edmond didn’t seem the least impressed with his fate. “As for your daughter…”, the Teyrn paused, studying Edmond for a reaction that he was sure this will bring out… He was right, for less than a second Edmond’s eyes were clouded by a mist of fear that he immediately hid away.

“She’s under the protection of the Inquisitor”, Edmond interrupted, staring at his brother like a wounded wolf, ready to rip his throat, “You’ll never touch her”.

“Then I’ll ask the Lord Inquisitor to send her home. Do you think I should send him your ear too?”, Tristan asked, “or maybe something he’s more familiar with?”.

“Take your pick. But who is going to lead your army when Osiris burst through Ostwick’s gates?” Edmond smiled, “You?”

The Teyrn waved his hand slightly in his brother’s direction and one of the guards swung his gauntleted fist hard across Edmond’s face. The impact was so strong that it made him momentarily lose sight.

“You can’t lead your army and you can’t even hit your own prisoner”, Edmond laughed and shook his head, his lips bleeding, “how many men do you think will follow you after you execute me?”

Tristan slapped Edmond across the face with the back of his hand. But to his utter annoyance Edmond continued to laugh. After the gauntlet, Tristan’s aggression was little more than a caress.

“The thing is, little brother, unlike you I do not aim to be loved and praised by my men”, At a small sign from the Teyrn, two more guards entered the cell, “I am more than happy to have them cowering on their knees.”

One of guards punched Edmond in the ribs at a small nod from the Teryn. “He doesn’t need to be able to stand tomorrow in trial”, Tristan stated to his men, “make sure he understands what Ostwick thinks of traitors.”

Another guard struck him across the face again making the chair fall backwards. The three guards circled their lord’s brother and obeyed their orders. They kicked and punched Edmond until he could no longer hold his head up and face them, the only act of defiance someone so tied up could do. As the door to his cell slammed shut, Edmond finally allowed himself to lose consciousness.

He was still on the ground when the guards came to take him to his trial the next day. He was dragged, for he couldn’t walk, into the middle of the room where his judgment was to take place. Wearing nothing but his trousers, on his bare feet like a common criminal, his whole body showing the violence of his aggression, Edmond was forced into a kneeling position and chained to the floor like a supplicant begging for mercy.

Still, with his remaining dignity, Edmond stared at the council of nobles, even though he could just open one eye due to his wounds.

“Before you stands my younger brother, Edmond”, Tristan, Teyrn of Ostwick started, “he is accused of conspiring against the State of Ostwick, revealing secrets of the defence of all the Free Marches to the Inquisition and plotting to murder his Teyrn so he could rise in his place”.

The whole room remained silent. 

* * *

 

 **The Trial - Part 2** (written by slugette)

After a long tedious walk through the steps and marbled corridors, Osiris stood in front of the massive door to the main hall of Trevelyan’s Keep in Ostwick. It had been surprisingly easy for him and his small entourage to enter the stronghold, thanks to the coordinated efforts between Leliana’s agents and a few Ostwick soldiers still loyal to Edmond.

The elf’s seething green eyes, clearly impatient, bore down upon the door, imagining what would lie beyond. The guards barred the door with their spears, more the formality than a real gesture of threat, clear in their uneasy stance.

“The trial is in session. N-no one is allowed inside.” ventured one of the guards, a sheen of sweat visible on his brow, reciting their script most likely.  

“I am the inquisitor.” Osiris hissed between clenched teeth, “Stand aside!”

“B-but, your Worship. His lordship told us t-to…” the guard stammered, but the fury behind the elf’s eyes made him withdraw his weapon and take a step backwards.

Without another word, Osiris pushed open the door, applying enough force to make it swing into the wall with a loud bang. The noise echoed through the hall as all eyes focused on the elf. He took a deep breath, his mind recalling what Josephine had instructed him to do. He had only one chance.  _This was it._

Osiris walked slowly, shoulders squared back, eyes straight forward towards the man in regal black robes seated upon the throne, Lord Tristan Trevelyan of Ostwick. The human lord regarded the elf, one eyebrow slightly raised in question, yet keeping his composure as if the arrival had been anticipated.

The seated nobles stared, their mouth agape. The inquisitor strode on through the susurrus of their chatters, keeping his poise, a careful neutral expression, until he got to the centre of the hall. There he was, battered head to toe, half naked and shackled. Osiris did not look away nor he betrayed his feelings. Only his eyes silently churned with the torrent of pain and rage.

 _Oh, Edmond, what have they done to you?_  He saw a flash of revelation in the yellow eyes that looked back, and something akin to fear.  _Do you fear for me, ma’fen, even when it is you who is beaten and chained?_

His heart burned with anguish, yearning to run to him, cut those bonds and wrap his arms around him. He bit his lip and forced himself to look away, fixing his gaze upon the man occupying the throne instead.

“Lord Inquisitor, What a pleasant surprise,“ began Tristan, Teyrn of Ostwick, his voice dripping with bittersweet poison. He leaned forward slightly on his throne, gesturing towards the elf with the casual elegance of nobility, “ To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I demand the release of my advisor.” said Osiris, carefully reciting the words Josephine had taught him, barely keeping his voice even. He was about to start a sparring of words, the Game, as delicate and deadly as any with blades. There were too many variables, with only a tiny chance at the desirable outcome.

Tristan laughed without a shroud of mirth on his hawk like features. “How amusing that you march in here and command me. Your advisor?” He gave Edmond a brief look full of contempt and continued, “I relieved him of that duty when I called him back the first time. Now, he stands accused of rather.. serious crimes against the state.”

“You recalled him without my approval!” Osiris didn’t miss a beat. His raised voice rang through the court, loud and clear. “As far as I am concerned, you are the one who is holding a member of the inquisition prisoner, accusing him of a crime he did not commit.”

“The inquisition has no authority over the matters such as this. Not over my men,” said the Teyrn, learning forward from his seat, his eyes never leaving the inquisitor’s. “In fact, your very presence here, is an insult to my authority!” he shouted, making the last word echo inside the deathly silent hall.

“No, you insulted ME!” said the Herald of Andraste, pointing a finger at the Teyrn. The anchor sparkled its green fury that matched his eyes. “You insulted me when you held my clan hostage. You insulted me when you blackmailed me like a common thug! And you insulted me with what you’ve done to Edmond!”

There was a collective sigh from the gathered nobles, some even muttering disbelief.  _Did they know of your black deeds? Let them be a witness to your shame._

“Enough!” Tristan yelled, standing up from his seat, his attention on the crowd. He continued only when utter silence returned. “Don’t you realise? The inquisition is finished! Herald of Andraste? All lies! Do any of you truly believe Andraste would choose this knife ear savage to be Her herald?”

Tristan turned to Osiris, his gaze venomous, “You’re nothing but a convenient figurehead for some power hungry rabbles. You have no right being here, child, so leave now… or I’ll have no choice but to remove you by force!”

 _There._  The last piece fell into the place. Time for the final blow.

“My Lordship. You leave me no choice but to defend my honour,” said the elf. He paused just enough to steal a quick glance at his lover, whose wolf eyes remained transfixed. He hoped Edmond would forgive him for what he was about to do.

“I challenge you for a duel to the death,” said Osiris finally.

The court erupted with gasps and exclamations, followed by excited chatters. Edmond shouted out something, which the elf couldn’t quite hear over the crowd, but the look on his face told his disapproval clearly enough.

_Everything will be ok, ma’fen. This is the only way I can save you._

His part was done. Now, the answer, if Josephine was right, had to be yes.

Tristan raised his hand, immediately silencing the court.

“Very well. If you want to die so badly, I can only oblige. Tomorrow morning. This trial is adjourned till after. Good day to you, lords and ladies.” He then left, with a sweep of his majestic robe, without giving the elf a second glance. 

* * *

 

 **Promise** (written by Suah)

Lord Edmond Trevelyan, soon to be former heir to the Teyrn of Ostwick, former General, former “Lord” and even former Trevelyan, sat, shrunken, on the floor with his naked back against the cold stone wall of his cell.

His new quarters were small and seemed to become emptier of air with each breath Edmond took. Only a small narrow window slit the wall near the ceiling, allowing in a wisp of light and not enough air for Edmond to breathe.

The warrior was very still. His whole body hurt. He was cold and starving. He couldn’t move his right arm, and at least three of his ribs were broken.

A defeated warrior.

It had been his miscalculation that had lead to his downfall. As so many before him, his pride swollen ego made him consider himself invincible. He deserved to fall from his pedestal and hit the reality of his own mediocrity, Edmond told himself. The Game is always played to the death. He made a mistake, so he lost.

The soon-to-be-former-Lord closed his eyes in shame, but in his mind he could still see the disdain and mockery of the crowd as he was dragged into the courtroom. Chained and forced to kneel, he was stripped of his dignity and thrown to ridicule. The crowd gasped and gossiped as Edmond stumbled across the room. Maybe they even laughed. Nothing pleases the masses more than to see the mighty reduced to nothing.

 _Well played, Tristan_.

But in spite of having been deprived of his self respect, Edmond had held his head high. He had stared at the crowd even with his pride reduced to ashes and awaited his judgement. He was never afraid to die and he had been expecting his brother to torture and destroy him before striking his final blow. Even his public humiliation didn’t come as a surprise. He was ready to withstand it with the same defiance he had shown the guard who spat on him.

But then Osiris had slammed the door open and all of Edmond’s composure had melted away.

Edmond wanted to scream. He couldn’t think straight and his ears were numb with the suffocating silence filling his cell. His thoughts and fears danced all around him, turning the silence into the perfect music for his panic to scream in disharmonious desperation.

Edmond tried to breathe deeply and keep his distress at bay, but the sharp pain in his ribs only settled the bar to the tune.

Osiris was going to die facing Tristan.

No matter how much he tried to turn the game around in his head, Edmond could see no way out. The abyss was still waiting for him and now Osiris was being dragged down too.

A metallic sound released him from his thoughts. Osiris entered the prison and his eyes widened as they set on Edmond’s retched figure. With fast steps, the elf closed the distance between himself and his lover, stopping at Edmond’s cell and holding the bars until his knuckles whitened.

Edmond looked into his lover’s eyes, wondering what he was seeing.  _“Half naked, hungry, shivering, pitiful shadow of a blindly arrogant fool who believed himself in control”_  his inner demons echoed.

“Osiris…” Edmond whispered as he struggled to stand up, supporting his weight on the wall, forcing his body to ignore the broken bones and bruises. He tried his best to prevent Osiris from realizing how painful this small act of getting up was, but he could see by the elf’s trembling lips he had failed.

 _“Please don’t look at me like that_ ”, Edmond’s mind and heart screamed. He was prepared to see his helplessness and disgrace reflected in the eyes of everyone, but not Osiris’.  _“Please, not you”_.

Edmond staggered across his cell towards Osiris. The elf passed his arms through the bars the moment Edmond was close enough to help support his weight and prevent him from falling.  Osiris’ warm hands on his cold skin brought the promise of comfort and closeness the human feared he would never have again.

“You’re freezing, ma'fen”, Osiris said heartbroken. Edmond could see Osiris’ lips trembling and his eyes filling with tears as the elf caressed his face softly.

“You shouldn’t have come here, my love”, Edmond said, his voice low.

“You think I would abandon you?”

“No, but…” Edmond sighed. He held Osiris’ hands through the bars and finally voiced the words strained in his throat since they received Tristan’s letter “Please forgive me, Osiris.”

“For what?”

“For endangering your clan, for…”, but Osiris rested his fingers on Edmond’s bruised lips, silencing him.

“Osiris, I couldn’t….”

“I know, ma'fen.”

Edmond leaned his head against the bars from inside his cell and Osiris rested his from outside, as their hands entangled. They stayed still, eyes closed, breathing as one, both holding on to each other, trying to fight the prison’s denial of their embrace.

“Ma'fen, if I fail..”, Osiris started.

Like a fatally wounded wolf finding his last strength to protect his pack, something stirred inside Edmond. “No”, he said without realising his voice had regained its usual might, “you will not fail.”

“But if I do, I made some arrangements to..”

“No”, Edmond interrupted once again.

“This is important”, Osiris tried again, “please listen to me…”

“No, my love, you listen to me”. And with those simple words Edmond was himself once again. His body was beaten and broken, but his eyes shone again with the same light and his voice commanded the authority it always did. “Tristan and I learned from the same master, so all our basic movements are the same.”

Edmond couldn’t fight in Osiris place, but he could tell him everything about Tristan’s combat abilities and prepare him for the duel. “He only fights the battles he knows he can win”, Edmond concluded after telling the elf all the tips and tricks he could think of, “so pay attention, for he is sure to have some advantage”.

Osiris nodded. “But, Edmond, if I fail, promise me….”

“You will not fail.”

“Please, ma'fen, don’t be so stubborn. Leliana’s agents are going to try to free you if I….”

“I would shut you up with a kiss, but the bars don’t allow me to”, Edmond said smiling as he brushed his thumb over Osiris lower lip. “Promise me you will win and you’ll come back to me.”

Edmond’s voice was so confident and reassuring that Osiris smiled as he held the human’s hand close to his face. “I promise”.

“I love you, my soul”, Edmond whispered tenderly.

Osiris took Edmond’s calloused hand to his lips and kissed it softly before backing away. “I love you too, ma vhenan”. 

 

* * *

 **The Duel** (written by slugette)

“Your worship, it is time. We require your presence at the courtyard arena.”

Osiris flexed and stretched his sleep deprived limbs one last time. He didn't feel ready. Far from it. He tried to reason with his tired mind, that somehow everything was going to be fine, but fear and self-doubt gnawed such thoughts away. In some ways he was glad for the call. At least it will all be over soon, one way or another.

There was only one last thing.

Osiris took out a vial containing deep red liquid, almost black until he held it up against the light. It sparked deep burgundy, like aged red wine, but much thicker.  

Dragon’s blood.

One tiny sip at a time, the trainer had told him when he started the specialization as a reaver. But truth be told, he had taken more and more as time went by. Until the Temple of Mythal. There, overwhelmed with rage and bloodlust, his blade had turned on his allies, and on the one he loved. He had had no choice but to break free from the substance. The risk had been too great.

The following few weeks had been difficult, to put it mildly, but he had endured, and vowed never to touch the thing again. Yet, here he was, holding the accursed vial in his hand once more.

Lord Tristan, despite all the faults in his character, was a renowned warrior, and a veteran of many battles. On top of his prowess in combat, he was cunning and ruthless, Edmond had warned. He wouldn’t have agreed to a duel if he didn’t also have some secret advantage.  

The unspoken truth hurt, but it couldn’t be denied. There was no way he could win on his own.

_If I fail, then Edmond…_

He swirled the vial, coating its inside with liquid ruby. It was beautiful. Intoxicating.

_I need this today. Forgive me, ma’fen._

Osiris downed all of the dragon’s blood inside the vial, easily more than twice the dosage he’d ever taken at one time.

***

The courtyard ring was surrounded by a large number of people; nobles took up their seats under white canvas shades, people in soldiers uniforms stood around the back, and many more in commoner's clothing. The duel to the death between their Lord Teyrn and the Herald of Andraste. For some, there was nothing grander since the crowning of the king of Orlais.

Osiris made his way to the corner of the arena. Waiving the attendants who came to help, he made the final adjustments to his gear himself. He had chosen a simple Dalish leather armor, not something that people would have expected to see on the Herald, but it was familiar, comfortable, and it had gotten him through many battles already. Something he would be proud to die in, but he snuffed out that thought almost as soon as it formed.

The Teyrn of Ostwick on the opposite side was a sight to behold, like a hero of the old tales. He wore a set of shiny silverite armor of the highest standard, making the one on the elf seem weak and flimsy in comparison. His gauntleted hand held a gleaming long sword, much like the one Edmond favoured, and the round shield on the other arm bore the banner of Ostwick.

Osiris freed his own sword from its sheath and walked into the middle of the ring. He tested the blade, cutting through the air in a full circle with a satisfying swish.

The weapon was lighter than most two handed swords, its slender blade as sharp as winter’s breath, perfect for its speed and deadly precision. Osiris opened his fingers and let them curl around the hilt, holding it tight, the feel of its leather grip almost comforting.

He scanned the edges of the ring one final time, making silent eye contact with Leliana’s agents disguised among the crowd. They would do their duty if he failed, and get Edmond safely out of there. That thought at least gave him small peace of mind, until...

A group of soldiers moved away from a small wooden platform near Tristan. There Edmond knelt, wearing nothing but the same blood soaked pants, chained to a post by the neck like a dog. Even deprived of his dignity the man held his head high, as much as the metal collar would allow, but it was clear how much of a strain this small act of defiance was.

Osiris stared, frozen on the spot. The rage burned inside him, with all his love for Edmond, memories of their embraces and tender moments of happiness becoming its fuel.

A guttural sound, like an animal in pain, escaped Osiris’ mouth without him realising. The anger, amplified tenfolds by dragon’s blood, made his breath come out uneven and ragged, the grip on his sword tighter.

“Come and face me now!” Osiris shouted. His face contorted with savage madness, his green eyes afire. In his ears was a distant roar that called for blood, which grew louder with each heartbeat.

“So eager to die. Very well,” said Tristan stepping forward. The crowd cheered for their lord, which, to the elf, was nothing but a buzz of insects.

Osiris launched himself at the opponent, his blade dancing to the song of the dragon’s roar. Quick lunges and slashes, impossibly fast. The human's eyes went wide as he took the first few blows to his shield. Osiris could almost smell the fear as he pressed on.

The huge weapon Osiris wielded moved as if it weighed nothing at all. Just simple moves, efficient and deadly. The older warrior parried and blocked, stepping backwards, but still keeping his composure. Impatience made the blade whirl even faster, bolder and more reckless.

All it took was a feint, nothing but a simple trick. Osiris only realised his error as a swipe of Tristan's longsword connected. A sharp pain on the right thigh told the elf that the first blood spilt was his. Only a shallow cut, but the human wore a victor's grin already. The crowd cheered inflating his swollen ego, no doubt.

Osiris pressed on as if nothing had happened, with even more fierce attacks. The duelists resumed their furious exchange for another minute or two.

Before long, however, Osiris noticed the human was gaining speed. Was he tiring already? The tide turned quickly, and the elf found himself blocking desperately. He panted, feeling out of breath and sweating heavily. His right leg was sleek with blood from the wound, and It felt numb, with a strange tingling sensation making him weaker with every passing moment.

He staggered, receiving another cut to the arm as a reward. Only then he realised, it was him that was slowing down, not his opponent moving faster. The tingling sensation now spread to the cut on his arm as well.

Then it dawned on him. _A poisoned blade!_

"You fucking coward!" Osiris growled through clenched teeth, while blocking another blow at the last minute.

"Tired already? I'm just getting started." Tristan laughed, now sure of his victory.

Osiris tried another wild swing and lost his balance. A vicious kick to his stomach sent him falling to the ground with a heavy thud. The crowd went wild with cheering.

Osiris lay there, his shoulders heaving frantically for more intake of air.  He tried to get up, but another kick to his side sent him rolling. There had been a crack where the armored boot connected with his ribs. The panic gripped his mind. He had to stand and keep fighting.

In his blurry vision was the silverite clad boots, coming closer without any real hurry. His empty hands clawed the dirt. Far out of reach, the two handed sword lay on the ground, filling his heart with anguish and despair.

Tristan threw his shield to the side, and grabbed the elf by the front, striking his face with the hilt of his sword. Again and again he struck, throwing the body around like a ragdoll.

The world was painted red in pain. His head spun, his limbs felt weak, and it became difficult to think. Osiris wondered why the man wouldn’t just kill him.

When all Osiris could do was holding on to a tiny thread of consciousness, the beating stopped. Perhaps the killing blow would come any moment now.

Osiris closed his eyes. Waiting. Only to be grabbed by the cuff and dragged all the way across the arena. The ground came up to meet him fast, face first. He stayed still, panting, racked with agony.

"I tire of playing swords with your insolent elf, brother." Osiris heard Tristan say through his ringing ears. He blinked, and looked up through blood soaked tears, realising Tristan had brought him in front of Edmond.

"Should I just kill him now, or do you think I might find a better use for him in my bedroom?" The human lord quipped, drawing a laughter and hoots from the crowd.

Edmond thrashed in his bonds, chains rattling and going taut. “I’m going to rip your fucking heart out!” he roared.

Tristan replied in a calm manner, “You want him back? I can give him to you of course.” He paused momentarily, his mouth curling up into a wicked grin. “One little piece at a time.” Then he raised his sword up high.

“Stop!” Edmond's face was a mask of pain. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but bit his lip instead. He took a deep breath, as to will himself into a forced calm, "You will gain nothing by killing the inquisitor. Let him go. You got what you wanted. You can do whatever you want with me, just.... let him go."

Tristan stopped, raising his eyebrow. “If that is what you want, then bow your head and beg.” he commanded.

Everything went silent, as the crowd collectively held their breath. Every eyes on Edmond.

 _You can’t beg, ma’fen, not for me…_ Osiris screamed from inside, but his dry throat wouldn’t make a sound. It was so difficult to breathe, and his limbs felt like they were made of lead. He wanted to go to sleep, slip away into nothingness, yet what would happen to Edmond then?

_Creators, grant me just one little bit of strength!_

But it was his inner rage that answered. The roar inside his head, nothing but a whisper at first, intensified until it swallowed his whole being. In that instant, Osiris was free from the pain. He was the rage incarnate. Sheer willpower moved his hand in a lightening speed, pulling Tristan’s foot from under him. The man went down, losing a grip on his sword.

Osiris raised himself, covered in blood, like the Elvhen pantheon of death whose symbol graced his face. In his hand was the sword Tristan had dropped, its tip now aimed at the man’s throat. Tristan stared, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“No, YOU are the one who must beg.” hissed the elf, but he never gave the man that chance. The tip of the sword drew a long beautiful arc in the air, with a spray of blood that blossomed.

The head of Tristan, the lord Teyrn of Ostwick. fell onto the ground near by, rolling unceremoniously. All was absolutely silent for a few heartbeats, before erupting into chaos.

Osiris didn’t hear any of this noise. He felt like drowning. He simply sighed, with the corners of his vision rapidly closing in darkness, with Edmond in its centre. _I did it, ma’fen._ The elf’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile.

“Goodbye, ma vhenan.” he mouthed wordlessly before falling, slipping away into the Beyond.

 

* * *

 **Here lies your Victory** (written by Sluah)

 _“You did this_ ”, Edmond’s mind echoed the metallic sound of Tristan’s sword hitting the stone floor before Osiris’ slowly fell to his knees.

All around the arena, the blurred faces that had gasped and cheered with pious enthusiasm at the combat that would be spoken for years, were silent.

Only a heartbeat later, however, the courtyard erupted into chaos.

Just seconds ago, Edmond’s eyes had widened with relief as Osiris’s swing had ended his brother’s life. Family bonds never mattered for the two Trevelyans, they had been dueling to the death since Edmond was born. Edmond had watched, shackled and broken, while his own flesh and blood ripped his soul apart.  The wounds on his body, that his brother had been so proud of, were nothing but mere scratches compared to the pain of witnessing such atrocity. And the moment Tristan’s head rolled off his shoulders, Edmond thanked the Maker for their victory.

But before he could utter his lover’s name, Osiris fell, with silent words uttered with a smile.

“Osiris!!”, Edmond screamed, but his voice was drowned beneath the turmoil. “No, don’t say goodbye!”, he commanded as he thrashed against his shackles with the determination of a chained beast. “Release me!”, Edmond howled, his voice thundering with mad desperation.  

_“You did this”._

“My wolf” Osiris used to call him, but no matter how furiously he struggled, the chains around his neck kept him in place, like the battered dog Tristan wanted him to be. From his humiliating captivity, the once mighty warrior could only stare, deranged, as Osiris’s fallen figure lay helpless on the stone floor, bathed in Tristan’s blood.

The certainty of having allowed his love to die in his place, crushed Edmond’s already mauled heart. The foolish hope he had clung to, that Osiris might win even though his blood was stained with Tristan’s poison and his combat abilities compromised, crumbled with the elf’s farewell smile.

The maker, in His golden throne, was laughing.  _“There lies your victory.”_

All around the arena, amidst the mayhem of bewildered spectators, behind the red curtain of Tristan’s blood, Inquisition forces together with soldiers from Ostwick’s army clashed with the dead Teyrn’s guards. In the name of a beheaded Lord against the glory of a chained General, swords hit shields under the same banner.

_“you did this”._

As soon as unknown hands relieved him from his shackles, Edmond staggered to Osiris. But after just a few uneasy steps his legs faltered and he noticed, as his vision became blurry and he fell to his knees, that he could no longer ignore his body screaming in pain.

“Your Lordship”, one of Ostwick’s soldiers said while aiding his General to his feet. “You are wounded, please let us…”

“Get a healer for the Inquisitor”, Edmond commanded as he supported his weight on the soldier, “and tell them he was poisoned”. Edmond paused to close his eyes as a sharp wave of pain threatened to make him fall again. Just a few steps away, the inquisition’s forces were already gathering around Osiris. “Please, help me to him.”

Like ice cold claws on his skin, Edmond’s guilt ripped it’s way into his lungs, gouging away the last breath he had as the warrior kneeled in the pool of his brother’s blood next to Osiris and checked his pulse. It was so weak he could barely feel it, but it was there, along with small rise and fall of his chest.

_“you did this”._

He was still alive. Was it pointless to hope again?  “You’ve fought wonderfully, my soul”, Edmond whispered, “you’ve saved us. But don’t surrender now.” He caressed Osiris’ bloody face with trembling fingers, “Don’t leave me…”.

Next to them, Tristan’s severed head stared lifelessly at his brother. “you did this”, the blank brown eyes accused.

“My Lord Teyrn”, another of the soldiers wearing the Ostwick’s crest bowed as he approached, “We’ve sent for a healer. Please allow us to escort you and the Lord Inquisitor inside.”

“Gather all the nobles”, Edmond’s unquestionable voice murmured through clenched teeth, his hatred loose, fueling him with the strength his wounds had guzzled, “and throw them in the cells” 

 

* * *

 **Back from the Beyond** (written by Slugette)

Osiris was falling. No, it was more like sinking. The thick molasses of darkness clung to him, suffocating. His senses were there, detached from his awareness which seemed to float somewhere above his physical self.

Like a puppet with broken strings, the body sank deeper. Was this the Beyond? Osiris did not know for sure. He felt oddly at peace, yet there was a longing, to be free of this darkness, to see him again.

_Ma’fen..._

As if to answer his thought, a voice called his name, somewhere distant.

“I am here,” he answered, but nothingness swallowed it. Louder, he shouted. _Please hear me._ He didn’t know how else to reach the voice, but he knew he had to try.

“Come back to me, my soul.” said the voice, clearer this time, but wobbly and thick like a sound through water. A plea? No. It was a command. The command he must obey.

Osiris willed himself towards the voice, desperately clinging to its pull. He focused and reached. His heart bursting to reunite with the one who called him his soul.

Somewhere in a different plane of existence, a finger twitched on clean white sheets. The eyelids fluttered, and then opened.

Suddenly, the world was full of light.

Then came the pain, so much pain…

***

Osiris blinked, and the world came into focus.

The orange sunlight filtered through the luxurious drapes over open windows, which danced slightly with the breeze that smelled like the ocean. Osiris found himself in a bed that was way too large for one person, well... even for two. The room, which seemed to be about the same size as his quarters at the Skyhold, was decorated in a style that he had never seen before, yet it felt familiar somehow, comfortable.

Where was he? He tried to raise his body, but all he could manage was to lift his head up slightly before sinking back into the soft pillow with a pained gasp. Why did it hurt so much?

It took him a moment or two, but the memory returned in full force, and his breath hitched, even though he knew it was all over. Ostwick. The duel! Edmond! Lying on a soft mattress, it all seemed so unreal, like he had been having a nightmare.

“Ma’fen?” he croaked, out loud without realising. The voice, hoarse and raspy, didn’t sound like his at all. He started to turn his head, or he tried to, without much success. His body felt almost alien, too weak and feeble.

“Thank the Maker, you’re awake!” said a familiar voice.

Osiris’ gaze instantly shifted towards the voice to find Edmond rising up from a large chair that previously escaped his field of vision. As if to prove that the scenes from his memories were nothing but a dream, Edmond was a vision of perfection, dressed in a dark regal set of robes, with his hair and beard immaculate to his usual standards. But the signs of the recent ordeal were apparent upon closer inspection; dark circles around his eyes, and reddish purple bruises fading around his forehead and cheeks.

Edmond knelt by the bed, close enough to breathe in his scent. Osiris closed his eyes momentarily to do just that. He was home. _Ma Vhenan._

“Are you in pain?“ Edmond asked, his dark brows furrowing with concern, marring the face that had been so bright with relief just a second ago.

“I’m ok.” Osiris lied, blinking to clear away the dampness from his eyes.

A large calloused hand grasped his own, tight and warm. Another hand traced his brow, down his cheek, to his jaws, touching ever so softly, as if he was made out of something fragile. When their eyes met, Edmond’s face was so full of raw emotions that Osiris’ own lips curled into a smile that mirrored his lover despite the pain.

“How long?” was all Osiris managed finally, even though there were thousands of questions in his head.

“You were out for almost two weeks. The healers couldn't tell me when you were going to wake up. Some even said that you’d never wake! Such nonsense they spoke...  Mages, ha!“ said Edmond with mock disgust. Jokes aside, Osiris pitied the poor healer who had to tell Edmond such things, and hoped they kept their heads at least.   

“The poison…” Osiris mumbled, starting another question, but he winced as his dry throat seemed to close in on itself, preventing any sound from coming out. Edmond cradled his head, and helped him with a drink that smelled feintly like elfroot. It soothed his dry throat, just like this closeness with Edmond calmed his soul.

“When I realised you’d been poisoned, I thought I lost you,” Edmond sighed, “The healers told me, dragon’s blood may have been the only thing that saved your life.” There was pain behind his wolfish yellow eyes, and Osiris could hear the unspoken self-accusation.

 _It wasn’t your fault, ma’fen._ Osiris wanted to say, had his throat allowed him to speak. Instead, he just swallowed and nodded, reaching out his hand  to touch the man’s face. His finger followed the harsh grooves of the scar on Edmond’s cheek, trembling slightly, for even such simple movement took considerable effort. The yellow eyes closed as big calloused hand held the elf’s, strong and steady. Safe.

They stayed like that, holding hands, for what felt like the eternity. Perhaps he should be more worried about his current state, with what the poison did to his body, but Osiris hardly cared.

He finally closed his eyes, and allowed the sweetness of sleep to claim him. All was truly done and over. He was home, with the new Teyrn of Ostwick by his side none the less. Whatever may come after, he could face it. Together.

“I love you, my soul. Sleep well.”

 _I love you too, ma vhenan._ As Osiris drifted to his slumber, he truly felt these last words in his heart, and sleep well, he did.

 

 


	8. Trespasser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events that happen in Trespasser DLC, and beyond. - Nothing new here yet, just decided to organise some drabbles into a new chapter.

**A taste of things to come** (written by Sluah)

A letter laid opened, momentarily forgotten, on the desk. **  
**

All around it, the room was as dark and quiet as it was expected at such a late hour of the night. Only a soft, warm light coming from the fireplace filled the Inquisitor’s chambers with it’s cozy presence, while the cracking sound of the blazing fire and the whistle of the wind outside soothed the rest of the two men lying side by side in bed.

Edmond’s yellow eyes opened and for a second he was unsure why he woke up. He turned his head towards the muffled moaning sound and his heart sank as he saw Osiris breathing heavily and shivering in his sleep. Next to Edmond, the elf’s red hair laid scattered across the pillow, his face, glistening with sweat, had turned away from the heat of the fireplace and the covers been desperately tossed aside as to escape the flames igniting in his own body.

“Let him be having a nightmare”, Edmond begged into nothingness while he sat on the bed, but by the way Osiris’ left hand was twitching, he knew the anchor was causing him pain once again.

Teyrn Trevelyan had travelled back to Skyhold the moment his lover sent word Divine Victoria had called the Exalted Council. But soon after his arrival, it became clear that Osiris had omitted much in his letters. “It comes and goes, ma’fen”, Osiris had said when he had been unable to hide the aching in his hand any longer, “think nothing of it”. But as the days went by, the episodes where the anchor started to twitch and hurt became more regular and the pain grew more intense each time it happened.

Osiris flinched and his usually pale face, now feverish and flushed, grimaced in pain. Edmond hesitated, unsure if he should awake his lover or hope that the wave of torment would go away while he slept. He didn’t have time to decide, however, for Osiris woke himself up with a cry and grabbed his left hand as he jolted to sit up in bed.

“Osiris!”, Edmond called out, reaching for him immediately. The elf’s green eyes grew wide, mirroring the alliance between the the flames of the fireplace and the burning sting pulsing in his left hand as he stared, momentarily frightened, into his lover’s alarmed yellow ones.

The Inquisitor gasped and opened his red lips trying to breath in some fresh air before being able to speak. “Do not concern yourself, ma’fen”, Osiris started, but his voice faltered and his gaze dropped into his hand, “It’s just…”. He fell silent the moment Edmond pulled him close and enveloped him protectively in his arms.

“Focus on me, my soul”, Edmond whispered as he embraced Osiris tightly, his voice was soft and tender but his tone echoed with command and safety, “the pain will go away soon”.

Osiris clung onto Edmond and buried his face in the human’s neck. He stayed completely still, his muscles tense and body shuddering, waiting for this sudden torture to stop. Against Edmond’s naked chest, protected between them, Osiris’ left hand burned hotter than the rest of the elf’s body.

“I love you, Osiris”, Edmond said softly as the elf trembled against him, “It will end soon”.

Osiris’ hold on to Edmond ceased gradually as the pain in his left hand started to fade. The moment Osiris breathed deeply and threw his arms around Edmond, the human knew the torment was gone.

They stayed quiet and unmoving in each other’s arms, sitting in bed, for a long time, with nothing but the flames of the fireplace cradling their shadows.

“You’re burning up, my soul”, Edmond whispered.

“It will go down soon now that the pain is gone”, Osiris answered, still wrapped in his lover’s arms, unwilling to move from his only shelter. “it always does”

“Let me go call a healer”, Edmond begged, as he brush aside a strand of red wet hair.

“They don’t know what to do, ma’fen”.

Osiris pain seemed to grow worse at each passing day and their options grew short as every door shut itself admitting it’s ignorance. No one knew what was happening to the Inquisitor. Not the chantry, not the College of Enchanters, nor any of the renowned healers throughout Thedas.

“We’ll find someone who can help you”, Edmond answered, both to himself as to his lover, while he held Osiris tighter, trying to keep him protected against his heart for just one more moment. He didn’t care that the Inquisitor’s advisors were against it, on the desk laid their last hope for help.

_My dear friend,_

_I’ll skip the formalities and pleasantries, for time you tell me runs short. Know only that your letter filled me with concern. There is never a moment’s peace, is there?_

_As you requested, I’ve asked for a meeting with the Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Minrathous that specializes in spirit healing and I’ll present the situation to her._

_She is as trustworthy as trust goes in this parts, I’m afraid, but rest assured that I’ll balance the need for discretion and information accordingly._

_I’ll send word as soon as I have news._

_Please inform me of any change in the Inquisitor’s condition._

_Your friend_ ,

_Dorian Pavus_

* * *

  

**Charge - part1 (written by Sluah)**

Lord Trevelyan tried to rethink his battle plans for the tenth time while his shield was getting heavier at each blow. Osiris behind him screamed in pain once again, but the horde of Qunari was pressing too hard for Edmond to turn his gaze from them. There was no other option.

"Bull, we're charging in the middle, breaking their forces. Dorian, take Osiris and don't stop until you've crossed the mirror."

"What?... No!" Osiris protested with his last strength as Dorian helped him to his feet. “I won’t…”

"I will follow. I promise" swore Edmond before charging.

 

**Charge - Part 2 (written by Slugette)**

“We have to go back! Now! We can’t leave him there!” Osiris hissed through clenched teeth, while trying to push Dorian’s vice like arm, which was the only thing that’s holding him upright. At the same time, the world spun and narrowed, becoming black around the edges.

“We need to..” He started again, but the blackness in his vision spread until the world became a little narrow circle before disappearing entirely.

“I am sorry my friend.” Dorian muttered in between heavy breathing, and slung the unconscious inquisitor over his shoulder, He ran as fast as he could towards the Eluvian without looking back.

 

**Charge - Part 3 (written by Sluah)**

A small unit striking at the center of the enemy’s forces is usually considered a strategical desperation measure, as Edmond was sure the Bull knew. If successful they would temporarily divide the enemy and carve a path for Osiris and Dorian, but at the cost of offering the two warriors to be flanked, swallowed by of the horde as they regroup.

Edmond felt the cold sting of a blade on his back, piercing his ribs after running through his armor, at the same time as his shield absorbed a powerful blow at the front. In one swift step, Lord Trevelyan half turned his body and swirled his blade, slashing the throat of the Qunari on his back, while maintaining at bay the opponent at his front. It was skillful attack, worthy of Edmond’s reputation as a warrior, but his battle stance was waning fast. The qunari were larger and stronger than he was, and no matter how many of them Edmond killed, their numbers didn’t seem to diminish.

An axe hammered with all the might of the qunari and Edmond’s shield broke. He tried to jump back and avoid an incoming attack by a second opponent, but his wound was bleeding hard and he was losing speed. He parried the second axe with his sword, but he could not respond to his third attacker. A third hit slashed him across the chest, ruining what was left of his armor. Edmond gasped for air as his knees wanted to surrender, just bend and accept defeat.

 

It was over. “Andraste guide me to the maker”. He was ready. He said goodbye to his daughter’s laughter and the shine in her eyes. He remembered the smell of Osiris’ skin, the taste of his tongue, how his brow seemed to twitch when he was upset, how his lips curved when he was trying to hold back a smile.

Then he remembered Osiris cries of pain as the Anchor slowly claimed his life. How, just moments ago, the elf fell and clench to him, how his eyes showed fear with his voice was calm.

Edmond hauled himself at his attacker, fueled by pure spite, and buried his sword on his chest. He wouldn’t die here. He had a promise to keep.  
He screamed at his body like it was one of his soldiers. Stand straight. Lower your center. Measure the arm’s reach. As his attackers were circling him, one of the qunari fell dead at their feet, his head slashed open. Bull.

As the remaining enemy momentarily lost his concentration, Edmond cut his throat with one swift strike.

Then he fell to his knees, sustaining his weight on his long sword as tried to regain his breath and his focus. He felt something big let himself fall too and saw Bull descend in front of him, covered in blood, his or his enemies Edmond couldn’t tell.

“Well, that was easy”, the Bull coughed as he laughed. “Can you stand up?”

Edmond raised his head and looked at the eluvian. “Yes”.

**Charge - Part 4 (written by Sluah)**

It took all of Edmond’s will to stand up without crying out, even with his sword helping to sustain his weight. As he tried breathing the pain away, he sheathed his weapon and checked his injuries. Apart from a large number of cuts and bruises, two wounds required the urgent attention of a healer. The large slash across his chest was bleeding hard but his wrecked armour had absorbed most of the damage, so even though it was painful it was not fatal. The one on his back, though, he was not sure. The blade had pierced his body deep under his ribs and his left side, from the wound down, was drenched in blood.

The Iron Bull was also patting heavily and got up with an angry growl. Whatever was waiting for them on the other side of the Eluvian, both warriors knew they wouldn’t be of much help.

Edmond walked through the mirror with uneasy steps, his breath irregular, one arm limply carrying his long sword, the other surrounding his torso, trying to apply pressure on the wound on his back.

A burned Qunari, a Saarebas, laid dead just a few meters away, between them and an inactive Eluvian that Dorian was desperately touching and cursing in Tevene.

“Where’s Osiris?”, Edmond asked as he passed the dead qunari. His voice was hoarse and low, almost as if he had to choose using the air in his lungs to speak or breathe.

Dorian turned around. “The Eluvian closed as soon as… Maker!”, he ran to his companions. He didn’t need to inspect either of them to know the extent of their wound. “You two need…”

“Where is he?!”, Edmond interrupted, his voice rising angrily and his vision shifting. Osiris was running out of time. And so was he.

“The Eluvian closed as soon as he passed”, Dorian said, “I can’t get it to open”. The three companions stared blankly into the mirror, none of them knowing what to do. Edmond felt despair raising and his strength failing. He was barely able to keep himself standing now and the more the time passes, the less help he could offer. And then, as unexplainably as it had shut itself, the Eluvian sprung into life once again.

Feeling a renew breath of life, Edmond passed through immediately, without even looking at the others. He reached what he could only describe as a garden of Qunari statues, all around him giant stone figures of warriors in fighting positions. Edmond staggered across, holding his torso, trying to keep pressure on the wound on his back. His breath was heavy and his arm couldn’t hold his sword anymore.

“Osiris!!”, he cried out, his voice much weaker than he had anticipated. It was never a good idea to shout in an unfamiliar place that could be harbouring enemies, but Edmond knew he wouldn’t be able to fight them even if he had the element of surprise.

Laying on the ground, unconscious, next to another active Eluvian was Osiris. Edmond tried to run to him, ignoring how his bleeding wound was crying out, but he was only able to totter. As soon as he reached the elf, Edmond fell heavily on his knees next to him, without being able to sustain his own weight anymore. “Please, Maker, let him be alive”, he prayed as he checked his breath.

The warrior hissed in pain as he pulled Osiris into his lap to inspect his wounds. Immediately he noticed part of his left arm of gone, but there wasn’t any open wound. He quickly examined the rest of his body for other injuries and was relieved not to find anything lethal. Edmond pulled Osiris closer and embraced him. He was alive.

Dorian and the Bull approached them silently, paying attention to any hidden enemies that might be lurking. “How is he?”, the mage asked quietly, holding the sword Edmond had dropped.

The elf finally opened his eyes, blinking heavily, as he tried to focus his gaze on the human’s pale face. “You’re alive”, Osiris whispered almost without a sound.

“I told you I would follow” Edmond whispered in Osiris’s ear, as he pressed the elf harder against his chest. “It’s over, my love, you’ll be alright.” He was having trouble breathing and his vision was becoming blurry, but it didn’t matter, Osiris was safe.

 


	9. Life in Ostwick

**"That display was crude, vulgar, and unnecessary"** (written by Slugette)

Even after a week of stay at the Trevelyan keep in Ostwick, the place still seemed cold and unfamiliar despite all of its comfort and luxury. Osiris mused about the misfortune of trading one big castle for another for a home. Not that it mattered. He would call anywhere home, as long as he was with the one he loved. Yes, even if that loved one happened to be a human with a long string of names, and even longer titles. Is it that Fate had a sense of humor?

Now where was he? He resumed his lone wandering, which he had been doing a lot lately. With the left arm still raw and sore around the stump, he was strictly forbidden to ‘play with swords’ by a stern faced healer. What else could he do but wander and explore then, while Edmond was busy with his stately duties?

“ _Serah_ Lavellan,” someone called from behind. Turning, Osiris came face to face with a crusty nobleman with a pinched nose, as if he was smelling something foul. The elf didn’t miss the use of the title for someone of lesser status, reminding him that he was no longer the inquisitor no doubt. “I understand that you have decided to stay in Ostwick… indefinitely. Is that true?”

“Yes,” said Osiris, remaining nonchalant, but he was getting tired of poorly concealed hostility he’d been experiencing from just about any nobles since he got here. He didn’t want any trouble, however, so the best thing was to end the conversation quickly, while saying as little as possible.

“There are rumors,” started the noble, pausing to stare accusingly at the elf, “that your stay is not of a political nature, and that your relationship with our Lord Teyrn is, let me just say, somewhat less than savoury.”

Osiris felt a pang of anger rising in the pit of his stomach, but he swallowed it back, remaining carefully neutral. “My relationship with Lord Teyrn is none of your concern,” he said, taking care to address him formally rather than just calling him Edmond. He was aware of the rumors, of course, and Edmond had assured him that he shouldn’t pay attention to the idle gossips of ‘those worthless vultures with no better things to do’.

“Yes, it is of my, no, ALL of our concern, that is, i’d like to remind you, that whatever power you held as the inquisitor, is now GONE, and as for whatever you’re doing with our Lord Teyrn… ” he let the words trail into an expression of utter disgust, like it would defile him by saying it out loud.

“So what do you think I’m doing with the Teyrn, exactly?” said Osiris, allowing some of the anger to bubble up to the surface.

“It doesn’t matter!” shouted the noble, his face red with apparent outrage. He paused to regain his composure. “Frankly, the inquisition has lost its power, and you now have more enemies than you could count as allies. Having you here… is going to be the death of us one day!”

At this point, Osiris noticed a few groups of people gathered about them, within an earshot of their conversation, while not being too close as to appear impolite. Great! Vultures, indeed. A set of footsteps behind him meant yet another arrival, but he didn’t turn to look.

“So, you wish me to leave. Is that it?” said the elf, lowering his voice.

The new arrival behind him interjected, “Yes, Bann Hendyr. Was that indeed what you were suggesting?” Ah, Edmond. Osiris wondered how much of the conversation he had heard.

“M-my Lord.” stammered Bann Hendyr, Having this conversation witnessed by the Teyrn himself was certainly not what the red faced noble expected. “ I was just having a private word with  _Serah_ Lavellan.”

“No, don’t let me interrupt your delightful conversation. By all means, keep going,” said Edmond. His expression was deadly serious, despite the light tone of his voice. His golden eyes bore down on the Bann’s dull grey ones, and the bann averted his eyes.

“Uhh…I-I was wondering, perhaps, why _Serah_ Lavellan chose to stay in Ostwick. After all, I heard the new Viscount of Kirkwall had offered a grand estate for him. There are some hideous rumors, and I just wanted to make sure… ” mumbled the Bann, his brows shiny with sweat. He wore the expression and mannerism of the man digging his own grave.

“Hideous rumors?” Edmond’s eyebrow shot up, as his lips drew a thin line. Osiris could only guess at what kind of murderous thoughts were floating in his head. He watched on without interrupting.

“It would be too disrespectful to repeat such… things in your presence, my Lord. So… ” continued the Bann, sweating and digging himself deeper yet.

But Edmond didn’t let the man continue. Before Osiris knew, he was being pulled closer to Edmond. The human wrapped his arm around his waist and the other hand behind his neck, pulling him up for a kiss. Osiris reacted to the familiar embrace without even thinking, draping his own arm around the human, fluttering his eyes closed and parting his lips.

The kiss was gentle at first, but soon grew deeper, and more demanding. Claiming. Osiris heard the people around them, some gasping, others merely mumbling excitedly. He felt the thousand suns on his face. He had never been kissed like this in front of so many. But his self-consciousness disappeared as soon as it began, as the kiss became something more, the whole focus of his being. The audience forgotten, he submitted himself.

Osiris couldn’t dare open his eyes for a few heartbeats after Edmond’s lips finally left his own. What just happened here? Breathless and his face flushed, he finally blinked his eyes open, and met with dumbfounded faces of the Ostwick nobles. He had a sudden urge to run and hide, but thankfully, Edmond’s arm stayed on his waist when he turned to the side towards Bann Hendyr.

“This is why I asked him to stay, Bann Hendyr. Would you perhaps like to see more?” said Edmond, his golden eyes shining. Triumphant. Osiris wasn’t quite sure what Edmond was playing at, for he seldom did anything without a reason. Such a public display of affection towards him, now merely an elf with no title or power, would certainly be damning for the new Lord of Ostwick.

“No my Lord, I have seen quite enough.” Osiris saw hatred in his eyes that flickered toward him for an instant. “Please excuse me, “ said the Bann before scurrying away, utterly outraged. His face had gotten so red it almost looked purple. Others also hurried away under Edmond’s stern gaze, mumbling about some urgent business elsewhere. Osiris chuckled softly, because they did remind him of scattering vultures when the wolf came back.

“That display was crude, vulgar, and unnecessary,” said Osiris, in mock seriousness. Edmond grinned but offered no immediate explanation. Osiris reached up with his hand to touch the man’s cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against his lower lip. “Do it again, “ he whispered.

Edmond obliged, leaning in and pulling the elf closer so their hips were touching. Their lips crashed together with passion and hunger, their tongues entwining, tasting each other till they were both breathless and hopelessly aroused.

“Crude and vulgar, I’d admit, but it was necessary, “said Edmond, leading Osiris to their chamber. “I love you, my soul, and I’ll have everyone know that.”

“I love you too, ma vhenan,” said Osiris, but he couldn’t help but worry. Teyrn couldn’t love an elf. Not in public. What if what the bann said was true? What if he became the cause of dissension and discontent of his subjects? What if he’d be the death of Edmond one day?

He tried to shake those morbid thoughts away as they neared their chamber without much success. But he was sure Edmond would make him forget about all, once the door closed behind them.

 

* * *

  **Love and Dejection** (written by Sluah)

The richly decorated room on the top floor of the Trevelyan keep, was dark with it’s heavy velvet drapes pulled on either side of the huge opened window leading to the stone carved balcony. The pale moonlight casted its glow, illuminating a figure that sat alone on a enormous armchair, behind the dark army set on a large marble chess table.

The man stood very still, hardly breathing, but his attention was wandering elsewhere from the half played game standing in front of him.

“I can’t make him happy, Dorian…”, Teyrn Edmond Trevelyan said at last, breaking what seemed like eternal engulfing silence. A feeble, but vibrant wisp of light shone out of an opened locket across his chest, then a low soothing voice answered, “You can’t make him happy or it’s still too soon for him to be happy?”

“What’s the difference?” Lord Trevelyan asked absent mindedly, “I don’t know how to ease his pain.”

“Do you think he would be happier somewhere else or with someone else?” Magister Dorian Pavus asked from his manor in Tevinter.

“No, I don’t” Edmond answered. Of course he wouldn’t be, but recently Lord Trevelyan couldn’t help wondering that himself. Was being in Ostwick, and with him, truly the best for Osiris? Or was Edmond being selfish, not wanting to let go of the one he loved so much, keeping him by his side when Osiris needed to search for his new path alone?

“There you have it, then.”

Silence filled the dark study once again as the Lord of Ostwick kept studying the chessboard like it was a display of his doubts and fears. No, enough! Edmond was sure he and Osiris belonged together, they would face any hardship together and nothing would ever tear them apart again. “I thought you opened the crystal because you had decided your next move.”

“Sorry, got distracted with you uncharacteristically pouring your heart out,” the magister teased.

“Just play, Dorian”

“Alright, Knight to E4”, Dorian decided.

“Really? Do you want to lose in three moves? I’ll go see if Osiris has finished his bath” Lord Trevelyan said, standing up “ And you rethink your strategy, Pavus!”

Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridors, even though the floor was covered with the finest carpets. Minutes later, Lord Trevelyan walked into the large white marbled bathroom filled with warm, perfumed steam.

The naked figure of Osiris stood very still, expressionlessly facing his own reflexion in a mirror the elf had clearly cleaned with his hand but that was already blurring again. Several drops of water still running down his body made it clear he had just recently finished his bath and once again, he had not been careful with his recently amputated arm. The raw flesh, still fighting for healing, laid wet and unbandaged.

“My love, you must be careful! Your wound is far from healed yet,” Edmond said as he took the perfectly folded soft white towel waiting next to the huge round grey stone bathtub and started to dry Osiris, gently like a delicate caress. But even the lightest touch seemed to rip Osiris back from his thoughts; he snapped the towel from Edmond’s hand and took a step back. “I can do that myself, thank you, ” the elf said.

“Of course you can,” Edmond started, “ I just…”

“I don’t need your help!” Osiris interrupted, irritation rising his tone a second before he turned his back to Edmond and took a deep breath.

“I know you don’t, my soul.” Edmond said and paused before continuing, “but I need yours, you’re drifting away.”  His words were simple but echoed emotions that carried the weight of his concern, and his voice lowered to a mere whisper, “I can’t reach you.”

Osiris shoulders started to shake, he dropped his head and the towel fell, abandoned, to the white floor. Edmond immediately closed the distance between them, embraced the elf from behind, not caring about his regal clothes getting wet, and pressed his lips to Osiris’ neck. “Don’t push me away. Let me be your strength as you are mine.”

In a single movement, Osiris turned around and clutched Edmond, gripping at his shirt and started to cry. He wailed loudly, unashamed, against his lover’s chest as Lord Trevelyan embraced him protectively and rested his face against Osiris’ hair. They stayed there, unmoving in each other’s arms, embracing until the bathroom’s steam died out.

“I’m sorry”, Osiris muffed against Edmond’s chest. Finally the elf lifted his tear soaked green eyes and looked at Edmond.  “I love you, ma’fen. So much… I just need more time.”

“You have all the time you need, my soul,” Edmond smiled tenderly and cleaned Osiris tears with his thumb, “I would wait for you my whole life.”

 


	10. Wedding

**Before the Storm** (written by Sluah)

Edmond Trevelyan, Teyrn and Lord of Ostwick, enjoyed the cold bite of the sea air in his skin as he crossed the cobbled beach that spread as wide as the horizon down from the high cliff hosting the Trevelyan keep. His majestic dark cloak trailed behind him, battling the howling wind.

Evening was approaching fast and the sun was already sinking into the raging sea. Waves crashed violently into the rocks, exploding in clouds of white, while the wind cutting as sharp as a cold blade served as a reminder of how nature balanced between beauty and ferocity. As an embodiment of such truth, Osiris repeated the steps he had been training all day with fierce determination, his back turned to the keep and facing some distant memory on the horizon,.

Edmond stopped a few feet from him. Only a glance was enough to let the veteran warrior know how much the elf’s footwork improved since he started practicing everyday with his new sword master.

Osiris turned around suddenly, no doubt sensing some presence watching him. He moved with swift and grace, in one single fluid movement, but Edmond savored every small gesture individually. First, Osiris pointed his sword, the Trevelyan’s relic Edmond had given him when he moved to Ostwick, at his unknown stalker. Then he turned his head, his green eyes ablaze like the coming storm with his red hair whipping savagely by the wind. When the elf moved his body to face him, Edmond’s lips parted in a ravenous smile. He could take Osiris right there on the beach.

The elf’s gaze softened immediately as he recognised his lover. “Ma’fen”, Osiris said smiling as he tried to sheath his sword, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here”. His attention was momentarily focused on the scabbard, that without a hand to hold it in place danced on the elf’ waist, stubbornly refusing to the receive the blade. Edmond felt the urge to help him, but remained still, casually waiting for Osiris to finish his task alone.

“I still have trouble sheathing the sword”, the elf said apologetically, when he was finally able to put away his weapon.

“Can you draw it at ease?”, Edmond asked.

“Yes”.

“Well, that’s the only moment you need to be fast, is it not?”

Osiris laughed softly and took Edmond’ arm. “Shall we go back, ma´fen?”

After just a few steps, however, Edmond stopped suddenly, and turned towards Osiris.

“Will you marry me?”, he blurted out.

This was not the proposal he had intended. In fact, Edmond had been planning the right form and moment for such a request; and it was meant to happen the next day, on a romantic dinner just the two of them, under the stars, on top of the Keep’s highest tower. But somehow, here, in this moment, without any plan or strategy, those words felt more honest and truthful.

“What?” Osiris froze. His eyes widened as he looked up deep into his lover’s yellow eyes, like the way he always did when he needed Edmond to dismiss his doubts and fears. But before the human could reassure him, Osiris lowered his head and stared blankly at sea foam covering his feet. They stayed silent, nothing but the sound of the waves kissing the sand and the wind forcing its will through the high rocks.

The shadow of sadness clouded Osiris’ green eyes and his lips began to tremble. “Your people won’t like this, ma'fen.” his words were simple, but his voice echoed a broken heart. “I learned enough of your politics to know at least this much. They won’t have an elf raised above their station. I…” Osiris swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing, “I already decided I would remain by your side. You don’t have to do this. I am still yours.”

Edmond took his calloused hand to Osiris’ cheek and caressed it’s soft skin tenderly, before raising his chin to meet his eyes.

“Do you think I would offer you less than all I am and all I have?”

“Ma vhenan…”, Osiris whispered, his eyes shining with tears, as he held onto Edmond’s hand and leaned his face against it, “no, I just…” . Then, very slowly, his lips curled into a smile, shy at first but then too large and honest to hold back as his tears ran freely down his face.

“I love you, my soul”, Edmond whispered, “the opinions of my people, your people, Thedas are just sand at our feet, none of it matters if you’ll have me”.

Osiris shortened the distance separating him from his lover with one quick step, and immediately sought the human’s lips. Edmond enveloped the elf tightly in his arms and they kissed passionately not even noticing the strong rain starting to pour over them.

“In case that wasn’t an answer enough for you,”, Osiris said, laughing happily when their lips finally parted. “Yes, I’ll marry you”

 

* * *

 

 **A tailor and the bride** (written by Slugette)

 Jean-Pierre Bobois was having a bad day, a very bad day. The most famous fashion designer in Orlais, in all of the Southern Thedas, was being treated like some common tailor! Sure, he probably should have expected this from the Marchers, but the treatment he received so far, was nothing less than appalling. **  
**

It all started when he received a commission from the newly appointed Teyrn Trevelyan of Ostwick. There were certain rumors he had happened to come across about the manner of his succession, but for Bobois it was nothing but gossip, too fantastical a story to believe.

The only thing that concerned him was the fact that Trevelyans possessed much wealth and influences all over the Free Marches and beyond. Furthermore, the commission was for the Lordship’s wedding, and Bobois couldn’t help but swell in pride for having been chosen for this commission.

He had packed his belongings that very day, and left for Ostwick. He could have sent one of his apprentices, of course, but he decided to personally oversee every aspect of the job, like the time when he designed a ball gown for Empress Celene some years back, may she rest in peace.

As soon as he arrived, he was treated with utter disrespect. No red carpets at the gate, no crowd to greet him and shower him with praises. Only some grim faced servants had turned up, who took his luggage unceremoniously, not all so gently either. Then, he got ushered to this modest room, where he has been waiting for hours on end. They even called him a tailor!

Bobois rubbed at his thin moustache, curling the tip for that perfect appearance, and pondered. The Teyrn was rather vague about the nature of this wedding. In fact, there was no descriptions about his bride to be, only stating that the final design should have some elements from the elven culture?  Bobois sighed. This must be because of his last year’s collection he had titled “The Savage Elegance”, which was inspired by the elven designs from the Dales. Maybe the bride was a fan of that particular work of his.  

His trail of thought, however, got rudely interrupted by the door opening abruptly. A young red-haired elf walked in, as if he owned the place. He was missing an arm, and too well dressed for a servant. Curious, but perhaps it was the Trevelyans’ way of flaunting their wealth. Bobois glared at the face marked with the tattoos of those forest savages, with an unbridled disdain. The new Teyrn must be generous to keep such a servant, a one-armed knife-ear savage, and rude to the boot.

“Are you the tailor?” the elf said, almost too casually. The tailor? Bobois’ already red face turned a few shades darker.

“How dare you! I am a fashion designer, and my work has been worn and adored by many powerful nobles all over Orlais. I even designed for the Empress herself! A tailor! Hah! Now, don’t just stand there, go and fetch those boxes over there.”

“Uhh.. “ The elf hesitated, looking back at him rather quizzically. Bobois rolled his eyes. Rude AND slow. Great!

“Those boxes! I’ve been waiting for a servant all day to help me unpack my tools, and then you finally turn up! I must say, you’re…not what I expected, but you’ll have to do. The Teyrn and the bride will be here for measuring any moment now!”

“The.. bride?” The elf’s mouth curled up into a smirk.

“What’s so amusing? Shoo! Get to work!” Bobois yelled. The Marchers! Even their servants are idiots.  But to his relief, the elf went to work with some efficiency, and helped him set up his tools, lay out all the fabric swatches, and even managed to move quite a heavy case with one arm. All the while, with a stupid half-grin on his face.

Bobois started to wonder what he must find so amusing, when he heard footsteps outside the room. After a quick gesture to the idiot elf servant to stand at the back, he was ready to greet the new Teyrn of Ostwick. The man who came in did not disappoint. He was tall, dark, handsome, and every bit like a noble should be.

Bobois started bowing low, “My Lordship, it is my absolute pleasure to finally meet you. First, my congratulations on your…” He stopped and looked up in the mid-bow, rather awkwardly, when he realised that Lord Teyrn had walked past him. He thought he heard a muffled noise from behind, like someone trying to stifle a laughter.

“Good! You’re already here,” Lord Teyrn was saying to the elf. “I am sorry, my soul. I got delayed at the meeting.”

Wait… my soul? Apologising to the servant? Bobois tentatively looked towards the elf, who was grinning ear to ear. The Teyrn pulled the elf close, and planted a kiss on his cheek. An observer at this point would have noticed Bobois’ jaw almost hitting the floor.

“It’s fine, ma’fen. It turns out, I enjoyed myself in your absence, thanks to our guest here.” said the elf, and gave Bobois a sly look and a wink.

“Is that so?” said Lord Trevelyan raising his eyebrow at the red faced Orlaisian.

“So.. you.. you’re t-the.. “ stammered Bobois. He swallowed when he finally put two and two together. There was a slight tremor in his lips.  

“Yes, I am.. the bride,” said the elf with a small incline of the head, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Lord Trevelyan crossed the arms in front of his broad chest, and looked at Bobois, and the elf, and then back at the poor Orlaisian man who was sweating profusely despite the cool air. “The bride? What.. happened here?”

“He asked me to help him set up. So I did.” the elf said simply.

“The tailor set you to work?” said Lord Teyrn, his expression turning cold. There was an annoyance in his voice, even anger!  Bobois felt his knees go weak.

“M-my Lordship. Please forgive me. I-I didn’t realise…”

“You don’t need to apologise.” said the elf, interrupting the man. “It’s been some time since anyone asked me to do anything for them. Not since…” He let his voice trail into nothing as his eyes dipped down low towards his missing arm. “It felt good. To be useful again.” he added after a heartbeat or two, with a small smile replacing the clouds of sadness.

Bobois thanked the Maker for this sudden fortune, because Lord Trevelyan’s attention shifted towards the elf once more, the warmth returning to his face as he collected him into his arms. They made a handsome couple, holding each other like that. Bobois felt a lump in his throat, his head full of newfound inspirations.

“Now, let’s get on with this business of getting our attire for the ceremony.” said Lord Teyrn.

“Yes, of course, my Lordship.” said Bobois picking up his measuring tape.

He could see it now. This was going to be the best work of his life.

  

* * *

 

 **In the shadows**  (written by Slugette)

Every city or town exceeding a certain size has an area one would describe as…  unsavoury. Locals would warn any newcomers to stay away, it would have narrow dirty alleyways filled with shady characters, darkness its permanent fixture even in the broad daylight, with danger and intrigue lurking in the shadows. **  
**

Ostwick certainly has such a place, and within it, there was an empty tavern. Nothing special, as far as abandoned buildings go, its boarded doors and windows barely offering anything of notice to the rare passers bys.

But like everything you’d expect in such a place, a sinister plot was being discussed by a group of questionable individuals.

Inside, it was dark, except for dim lights beaming through boarded windows. Dust motes danced, disturbed from their resting places among broken tables and chairs littering the place.

The plotters sat around the only table that stood upright. Now, you may have expected some shady looking characters dressed all in black, perhaps sporting nasty scars, gaps in their teeth, and even a missing eye. But no, the plotters you see here looked quite ordinary. Except maybe the huge bald one, standing by the only entrance, who indeed had a nasty facial scar and a broken nose, and the neck so thick you weren’t sure where the head ended and the neck began.

Silence filled the space between the dancing dust motes, occasionally interrupted by rustling of clothes, shuffling feet and light tapping of fingers on a wooden surface.  

“What the fuck are we doing here?”, said the one with short sandy hair wearing fine looking garments, no doubt at the height of current fashion. He had an air of nobility about him, until he opened his mouth, of course. There was a hint of Ferelden accent.

“Waiting to meet the contact for the new job.”, said the short one with a beard, who had a face like it should belong to an account. Even his voice, monotonous and flat, suited the said profession. His pale blue eyes, by far the most interesting feature on him, shifted between the dark entrance and the man who just spoke. The furrows between his brows deepened as he did so.  

“Any idea what the job would be?”, spoke the one who was tapping his fingers onto the table. He had the look of the man who had a pressing business elsewhere. His thin lips drew a tight little line below a nose two sizes too big for his narrow face.

“Killin’ somebody?”,offered the brute by the door helpfully.

“You fucking idiot!” said the sandy haired man, rolling his eyes. “We kill people for a living! Of course, it’s killing somebody!”

“Sorry, Dave,” said the brute, scratching the back of his head.

“Maker’s balls! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s NOT Dave anymore! Its ser…”

“Oh, would you two shut the fuck up?” interrupted the blue eyed accountant, “It’s the new Teyrn.”

The big nose gasped, almost leaping off his chair. “Say that again?” he said too loud, then he continued in a hushed tone, his narrow eyes shifting this way and that, “The Teyrn!? The one who killed his own brother?”

“Calm your tits, Joe,” said the accountant. “No, it was his knife-ear pet who killed the former Teyrn. You know, the one they used to call the Herald of Andraste?”

“Fuck Herald of Andraste!” exclaimed the man who was not Dave anymore. “I never believed in that horse shit for a second. But I hear they’re getting married?” He chuckled. “The elf must have one sweet fucking ass.”

“Blasphemous, aren’t we?” said the accountant. “You better keep that opinion to yourself, in case it offends our client. They should be here any moment now.”

“Hah,” snorted not-Dave. “I doubt it. They want to kill the Teyrn! I doubt they’d care about me offending the fucking Herald.”

“I don’t know about this,” said Joe, not looking at anyone in particular. “I heard some… stories about the Teyrn.”

“What kind of stories?” asked not-Dave.

“Ok, I heard this one recently, yeah?” Joe licked his thin lips. “Lord Trevelyan decides that he’d marry this knife-ear of his, right? And he announces it to the council of nobles. He apparently promised this elven whore the whole title of Teyrn plus all the rights to rule and so on. With that announcement, the whole fucking council goes nuts!”

“Why?” asked the brute by the door, who had the look of a child listening to a bedtime story.

“You fucking dip-shit!” said not-Dave. “An elf ruling over men? A fucking elf! Who’d like that kind of bullshit!”

“Anyway, “ continued Joe. “This one Arl goes all like fuck-you, we can’t follow a leader who only thinks with his dick, maybe not in that exact words but something like it, and the Teyrn just quietly stands up, right? He walks over to the arl without saying anything, yeah? And BAM!! Chops his head off. Just like that!”

The momentary silence was cut short by Not-Dave’s shrill laughter, which gradually turned into fits of giggles. “He’s got the balls of iron! I think I’m in love.”

“Quit laughing, you sick fuck!” Joe frowned and added, “After that? No complaints from anyone! Fucking scary, if you ask me.”

“Who’s hiring us anyway?” Not-Dave asked the accountant, who was obviously the leader of this little group.

“Does it matter? We’re talking a lot of gold. The less we know, the better it is. Trust me.“

“But the Teyrn? How?” said Joe. There was desperation in his voice, and more than a hint of fear. “The Trevelyan keep is fucking secure. You would have better luck breaking into the fucking Winter Palace in Orlais.”  

“We go in during the wedding, while they receive all sorts of guests from all over the place. Our client assured us that we’ll also have some help from inside,” said the accountant.  

“What? They’re hiring others too? It’s going to be one bloody wedding then,” said not-Dave, and whistled at the brute by the door grinning widely, “Hey, Bob! Remember that wedding job we did last time?”

“I love weddings.” said the brute called Bob, also grinning ear to ear.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” The accountant rolled his eyes. “I’m not letting you and Bob fuck the bride this time. ”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I live for that shit, ” said not-Dave, laughing.

Joe mumbled to himself, “I still don’t like this.”

“You fucking coward!” not-Dave spat. “They’ve promised enough gold for us to live like kings!”   

“Ssshhh! They’re here.” said the accountant who’d been checking the door. He was suddenly tense.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and went absolutely quiet, their wide eyes focused at the doorway. No one had heard the door open and close, not even Bob the brute who was standing within an arm’s reach from it. But a dark hooded figure stood just inside the closed door anyway.  

The hairs on the back of their necks stood. Bob the brute took a couple of steps back as the hooded figure glided past. His jaws hung open, and if anyone whispered ‘boo!’ into his ear, he would have bolted and run.

With a heavy thump, a pouch of gold dropped on the table, spilling its content. They made a beautiful cling clang of a noise only too much coins in one place could make. In the normal circumstances, such a sound would be followed by hands scrambling to grab. Yet, there was fear in the air, so thick it became almost tangible. Their instincts drove the men to focus on the source of that fear.  

The hooded figure now stayed motionless and still silent. No matter how hard one tried to look, the face was simply absent under the hood. Instead, there was only the shadows… whirling and slithering, making one’s skin crawl…

Then, there was the voice that sounded like a nail scratching on a chalkboard.

“Kill the Teyrn, and bring the elf to me, “ it said.

After the long moment of silence, the accountant opened his mouth to speak. Then, Joe stood up, trembling, his wide eyes showing mostly whites.

“W-what the fuck? This is all fucked up! No! I want n-n-no part in this!” He started backing off towards the door, stumbling on his own feet.

A gloved hand gestured, and Joe’s mouth opened wide as if he was screaming, but no sound came out, not even a squeak. His body was rigid as a board, only his hands started clawing at his own throat.

Blood trickled out from his nose, and soon it poured not only from his nose but from his eyes and ears as well. The silent screaming continued. The fingers drawing more blood from his own neck, as he choked and gurgled, drowning in his own blood.

After what felt like a long time, the lifeless body of Joe fell with a heavy thud, too loud inside the empty room. Nobody spoke, or even breathed.

“Kill the Teyrn, and bring the elf to me.” the voice said once more.

This time, the silence that followed only spoke of obedience.

* * *

 

 **The wedding - Part 1** (written by Sluah)

The long paved streets of Ostwick shone bright in the morning light, adorned with silk banners of white and gold that danced enamored with the blowing wind, seducing and teasing with the promise of the event about to start. 

This was a day to remember for the generations to come, and in every corner of the big city state, from the fishermen already at sea to the nobles dressed in their carefully commissioned gowns, every tongue had its own opinion on the Teyrn’s wedding. To some it was an aberration, an affront to the natural order and stability of the realm, to others a promise of the new age, a sparkle of hope that showed love can burst and flourish where least expected  And raise a mutt to a king, as some added.

The Lord Teyrn gazed upon his domain from the high window of the Trevelyan keep, fully aware of the revolution and change about to take place. He knew, of course, about the controversy and fear his marriage was stirring. Osiris was an elf, inferior and meant for labor or worse as far as most  humans were concerned. He was a dalish, savage in costumes, with primitive feral marks on his face. And he was a male, they would have no progeny to further the Trevelyan line (which was for the best according to some, already destituted, nobles); which meant the protection and rule of Ostwick would pass to Lord Trevelyan’s only heir, a mage. 

Edmond turned his head to gaze upon his soon-to-be husband and paused, enthralled by the sight as his mind savoured the word. “ _Husband”_ . Osiris stood very still, his thoughts miles or ages away, in front of a large silver framed mirror with three humans carefully finishing the last touches and details of his wedding attire. His long hair fell wild and free down his shoulders as a red waterfall framing his perfect pale face. 

 _“Husband_ ”. 

Edmond approached his lover and the servants bowed low and stepped back. He ran his rough hand through the loose hair he loved so much, intertwining his long fingers in the smooth strands before embracing Osiris from behind. Lord Trevelyan smiled as he stared at his own reflection, he was regally dressed and ready for his own wedding, with the man he loved wrapped in his arms. So many years ago he had been in this same place, in front of that same mirror, staring at himself in a wedding outfit. Back then, he had the troubled stance of an unarmed warrior following orders he did not dare to question; it meant nothing, only the duty to his Lord and the city. This time, however, the man staring back had a smile that filled the room and the light in his yellow eyes that shone with the certainty of the man about to bind himself to his destiny. “I love you so much, my soul”, Edmond whispered softly into Osiris’ ear. 

The elf smiled and rested his head on Edmond’s shoulder behind him as he too stared at their embraced reflection in the mirror, “And I love you, ma vhenan”.

**************

The long white marble corridors of the Trevelyan keep shone brighter that morning as the sun light burst through every open window. Perhaps Andraste herself was bestowing a blessing upon Her Herald or perhaps Edmond just saw the world more intensely as he headed, embracing Osiris by the waist, to the courtyard where a large crowd, their guests, were waiting for the ceremony to start.   

The wedding had been, of course, planned to the last detail. Edmond made sure everything had a meaning and a purpose. Theirs was a marriage of love, no doubt, but it would be celebrated as a perfect move of the Game. Voices had risen though all of Thedas protesting their indignation at an elf acquiring such a high nobility title and being given the right to rule over humans. Osiris had sacrificed so much for Thedas, he had been its champion without asking for anything in return.  And so many who had fallen on their knees before him as the Inquisitor now sneered at the “knife ear king”. Edmond would make sure they all knew their place, and bow low at the feet of the man he loved. 

Thus he would fulfill the promise he made to Osiris at the beach. With his proposal he had given him all he was, now by their marriage he would offer him all he had. 

The wind running through the white and golden draperies that decorated statues and trees on the courtyard saluted them solemnly as the two ceremonially dressed guards opened the large wooden doors and stood guard on either side. 

A white carpet heading to an altar in the middle of the garden, between two sculpted columns, was surrounded by a crowd of nobles and commoners richly dressed in every colour and style. They gasped and gossiped as the Teyrn and his elf stepped forward. The first move. Hardly any noble family was as rich in gold and allies as the Trevelyans of Ostwick. _“Look around you”_ , Edmond mentally told the guests, _“and see us for who we are”._  

Soldiers in ornamented armor with long white mantles framed their path leading to the altar. Each of them drew their sword and formally saluted Edmond and Osiris as they passed them. The second move. Ostwick held the largest and most well organized army of the Free Marches. _“Look around you”_ , Edmond said again, _“and learn to fear us”._  

Holding each other’s hands, Edmond and Osiris walked the white mantled corridor. Recognizable and undistinguished faces stared at them. Some whispered, others slowly and discreetly shook their heads in censure, some stood mouth agape still not believing it was true. 

Among those all those faces, Cassandra was beaming with happiness and her lips curled into a smile as they pass her. 

A few steps closer to the altar, Dorian laughed happily and soundlessly moved his lips to tell Edmond some felicitation words, but the Teyrn’s attention was immediately drawn to his daughter, who wore an outrageously revealing dress and was giggling enthusiastically with a long haired young man holding Dorian’s hand. 

“I’ll have a word with that Orlesian tailor”, Edmond whispered to his future husband, as he caught a glimpse of Varric, on the other side of the corridor, in front of where Dorian and Lenore stood, winking at Osiris. 

The final piece of the Game stood waiting for them at the altar. Beaming with a smile of true friendship with her unmistakable vests and hat, Leliana, or, as she was now called, Divine Victoria, welcomed them with open arms. 

This was how history would remember this moment. The moment when the Teyrn, general and ruler of the largest army of the Free Marches, swore his undying love and devotion to an elf; how they were bound in matrimony by the Divine Herself and how from that day on the two Lords sat side by side on the Throne of Ostwick and ruled as one. 

Everyone was quiet as the Divine welcomed them all to the ceremony and made her speech.   

“Edmond Augustus Wulfric”, Leliana paused for less than a second, her eyes shining with disguised mockery, before smiling discreetly. A private joke only those of the Inquisition would understand for they were sure to remember how long it took to introduce both Edmond and Cassandra in the Winter Court, “Oswald Sigurd Gawain Trevelyan, what do you swear in the presence of the blessed Andraste and the Maker?” 

Edmond turned to Osiris and held his hand, taking his time to savour every moment and memorizing every heartbeat. The whole world went silent, for no sound dared to come between them and nothing seemed to move apart from the soft breeze that gave life to the elf’s red strands of hair.   

“Osiris… You are my life and my soul”, Edmond started, his words untrained and honest, as he looked deep into Osiris’ expecting green eyes, “I was only truly alive since I met you. I swear whatever path is ahead of us we will walk it as one.” 

“Osiris Lavellan”, Divine Victoria continued, “what are your vows?”. She asked not mentioning the Maker or the Creators. 

“Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.”, Osiris smiled despite his lips trembled, “Sylaise favor our home”, he translated,  “I leave the past behind and begin my journey forward with you with hope and love. Forever.” 

“You may now…”, The Divine was about to conclude, “Oh!”. Leliana laughed for she didn’t have time to announce the traditional kiss that seals the wedding because as soon as Osiris had finished his vows, Edmond claimed his lips with a passionate kiss while embracing him tightly in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 **At the end of a Perfect day (the wedding Part 2)**  (written by Slugette)

The whole day seemed like a dream to him. It was certainly the most unlikely situation Osiris had pictured himself ever to be in, yet it felt… right, like it was meant to be. Lord Trevelyan. It was his name too now. **  
**

Lord Osiris Trevelyan, Teryn of Ostwick.

Osiris chuckled to himself as he recited the name in his head for the hundredth time. It still sounded utterly ridiculous, but he repeated it out of the sheer happiness it brought him.

For some, the name meant wealth and power, but not to Osiris. It meant much more to him than such mundane things. It meant he now shared his name, his life, and his everything with the man he loved.

“Whatever path is ahead of us we will walk it as one”, Edmond had said.

“With hope and love, Forever,“ Osiris intoned a part of his vow again to himself, his eyes somewhere far away, with a smile that never really left his face since the ceremony.

The sun hung low near the horizon, its orange light filtering through the tall windows. The party was now in a full swing, after most of the afternoon’s socialising. Some people were dancing to the music, some mingling in small groups around the grand hall.

In fact, there were people everywhere in and around the keep, most of them strangers to Osiris. He got introduced to so many throughout the day. They congratulated him and wished him happiness, some with obvious disdain (specially in the absence of Edmond), others with enthusiasm which seemed way over the top. At the end of the day, though, they all just became the sea of faces whose names Osiris didn’t care to remember.

His eyes drifted over the crowd and finally settled on the tall figure in white on the other side of the hall, where he was engaged in a somewhat heated discussion with other nobles. His husband. He sighed without taking his eyes off him. How inappropriate would it be if he just marched there and asked if he could have him all for himself now please? Just the kind of uncultured behavior they’d be expecting of an elf, he thought with a pang of regret.

He sipped at the glass of wine he’d been nursing in his hand. The fragrant Orlaisian vintage permeated its heady aroma inside of his mouth, making his head spin momentarily. He stumbled and leaned against the wall to steady himself. Time for a fresh air. He headed towards the courtyard garden, hoping he wouldn’t have to stop too many times to answer the greetings from strangers.

To his dismay, the garden was also populated with many guests, who seemed more rowdy, and perhaps prefered less formal environment than the main hall. Osiris saw many elves there. They cheered and raised their glasses at him as he went past. He inclined his head towards them with a smile, but didn’t stop to chat with any.

His feet took him to his favourite section of the garden on their own volition. The place, particularly dense with tall trees and bushes, was relatively quiet, deserted except for a couple having a passionate moment under the shadow of low branches. Again, Osiris longed for being alone with his husband. Couldn’t this day end any sooner? It’s probably the alcohol talking, he thought as he leaned his head against the rough coolness of the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

After what felt like only minutes, Osiris blinked his eyes open. But enough time must have gone past, for the sky was already dark. He absentmindedly stroked something soft and furry nestled comfortably on his lap. Harry the kitten (well, not a kitten anymore but everyone still called the small cat by that) purred softly.

“I suppose I should get back to the main hall,” Osiris told the cat, who managed a certain disappointed look only cats could pull off when they were threatened to relinquish their comfortable lap to sleep on.

“Don’t you give me that look, Harry. I really have to be getting back, “ started Osiris, but the cat’s ears suddenly perked up, and he jumped off the lap, hackles rising. Osiris stood and spun around, sensing, rather than hearing, someone approaching.

“Hiding from your own party, my lord?” said the sandy haired newcomer, smiling despite his  unmistakable sarcasm in saying “my lord”. Fashionably dressed like any nobility, but there was something dangerous about this man that made Osiris wished he had a sword in his hand.

“What do you want?” Osiris frowned, shifting his eyes towards the second man, who was a bald, scarred, walking tower of muscles. Trouble.

“We wanted to see YOU, of course. Who wouldn’t?” said the sandy haired man, sneering. “You are the talk of the whole fucking city! I must say, you are… taller than I thought.”

“Leave me, “ said Osiris, reaching behind his belt to touch the hilt of his small dagger, the only weapon he could fit into this accursed impractical garment. The two men now blocked the only path out. It was strangely quiet.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my lord, “ he said with a sarcastic “my lord” again, “We are here to escort you out. Any minute now…”

A loud booming noise echoed throughout the garden. There was a woman screaming somewhere far off, with the sound of glasses breaking, followed by more shouts, and the sounds of running feet.

The two men pulled their swords out with a certain finesse, utterly comfortable as if the weapons were extensions of their limbs.  “Ah! There! You see? That was our cue. It was so nice to chat, but now you must come with us, my lord.”

Osiris pulled out his dagger with a flash, cursing inwardly as his head spun again.

“How cute,” said the man, and the three exploded into action.

Osiris ducked the swing of the sword at the very last moment, and deflected the second man’s sword with the dagger. He then rolled to one side, hoping to find an opening to run behind them. No chance. They coordinated their moves too well, like those who fought side by side for years.

The blades flashed this way and that, and all Osiris could do was to dodge and parry, while being pushed further and further back. His mind whirled. But there was nothing he could do but to continue the desperate dance of a cornered prey.

As a last resort, Osiris left himself wide open for the smaller man’s blade. That ought to give him a chance to kick past the other man. The pain exploded, as the blade bit into his shoulder. He then kicked, knocking the man to the side.

Osiris quickly regained his balance, ready to bolt. But the larger man recovered faster than he thought possible for a man of his size, seized the elf’s wrist, and twisted it back. The dagger dropped with a loud clang onto the stones, and a thick arm wrapped across his throat holding him in a vice like grip.

Too many thoughts came across the elf’s mind then, held tight and helpless. These must be assassins, but why would they want to take him instead of killing him? A morbid thought. One that certainly won’t help him escape the situation. Osiris struggled anyway, the best he could. There was more commotion all around the keep, it seemed, screaming and shouting everywhere.

“Well, my lord. I didn’t want to do this, but you give us no choice, ” said the sandy haired assassin, which was the last thing Osiris heard before the blinding pain behind the head made everything go black.

 

* * *

 

 **A Teyrn, a Viscount and a Magister walk into a ... (the wedding Part 3)**  (written by Slugette)

Edmond was getting impatient. The bulk of the nobility seemed to have something they had to desperately discuss whenever he stopped for a casual greeting. Their bannorn needed more troops, or some minor border dispute happened without their fault at all, blah blah blah… He was not in the mood for such mundane matters, not on his own wedding day! **  
**

But all this was necessary to win a few favours of the local lords, else he might jeopardise the delicate balance of support he held. The Teyrn he was, by usurping his brother’s throne, so the loyalties of many were still in doubt.

Perhaps his younger self would have said,  “To the Void with all this political bullshit”, and be off with his love. But now? He had to secure enough power to safeguard the one that was most precious to him. His soul, his love.

Edmond thought he just saw a glimpse of the red haired elf in the far end of the hall, heading out towards the garden. Osiris was never fond of big parties. He silently apologised to his newly wedded husband, who had little understanding of the matters of politics, not yet. Edmond forced his attention back into the conversation at hand, most of his mind still lingering on the thoughts of the elf.

The darkness soon spread through the sky outside, and the grand chandeliers came alive with sparkling candles. A large number of the crowd took up dancing, making the main hall look like exotic birds on wild flowers.

Edmond made his way to his friends, finally released from more grueling conversations with assorted nobles. Magister Dorian Pavus, the special guest from the Tevinter imperium, lounged near the drink tables, with an immaculate choice of white outfit embroidered with gold and silver threads. An unlikely friend, but a friend dearer than any he ever had.

“Ah, there you are! I was starting to worry if those vultures would ever leave you alone, “ said Dorian, with just one corner of his moustache curling up into a coy smile that he often wore.

The two men embraced, the harty kind that ends with playful thumps on the back. “Thank you for coming. It is so wonderful to see you, ” said Edmond with a smile of his own. “How are things in Tevinter?”

“Oh you know, keeping myself busy with the politics, death threats and all the usual fun obligations of being an evil magister. I must say, you pulled off a splendid party!”

“Admit it, Magister Pavus, you’re impressed.”

“Not you too! I still look around for my father when someone calls me as such.” Dorian laughed. “Besides, I must invite you to one of the parties we hold back home. It is quite something, you know. With all the fabulous fashion, food and drinks, as well as court intrigues and proper assassinations. I think you’d love it.”

Edmond was about to answer with a clever retort, but there it was. Somewhere not too far off. A loud boom, followed by shrill voices and screams. The music stopped abruptly, and the confused crowd collectively gasped before breaking into wild confusion.

All the warmth from Edmond’s expression left in an instant, replaced with that of an ice cold rage. Ruin his wedding? How dare they!

“This is more like it!” said Dorian, his storm gray eyes sparkling.

Edmond didn’t say a thing, his mind working out thousand scenarios at once. His hand gripped the hilt of the sword, while his eyes scanned the hall that erupted into chaos. The captain of the guards came running.

“Defend the guests from any possible threats, and seal the gates. Nobody is allowed to leave!” said Edmond, his voice calm but firm, without betraying the panic inside. An assassination attempt, he was sure of it. A surprisingly well organised one. But if he is not the target, then it had to be Osiris. Dorian flashed a knowing glance, and Edmond knew that he must have arrived at the same conclusion.  

“After you,” said the magister, and Edmond broke into a run towards the garden, where he’d last seen the elf heading to.    

Along the way, he ran into Cassandra, barking orders to the soldiers with a sword in her hand. “There was an explosion in the western wing. I fear that there are mages involved. I shall go investigate, and take people to safety,” she said to Edmond, who nodded, silently thanking her for taking over. She hesitated before hurrying along. Either to wish him luck, or to offer him comfort, he would never be sure.

The garden was more of a chaos, full of people who must have run out from the keep. Osiris was nowhere to be seen, and Edmond couldn’t help the darkest thoughts to spring in his mind. What if he’s already hurt, or even dead?

“Moro!” Edmond shouted for his companion, who had been kept away from the guests, but still within an earshot. Sure enough, the huge grey wolf bounded towards him, causing the nearby guests to flee in panic. “Help me find Osiris,” he said looking into the eyes that are the same shade as his.

Moro took off, her nose low to the ground, and led Edmond and Dorian towards more secluded section of the garden. He should have known, Edmond thought, he knew the elf favoured the dense trees of this section, often hiding himself within its quiet sanctuary whenever he needed to be alone.

“Hey, wait up!” a familiar voice called from the other side of the garden, none other than the Viscount of Kirkwall himself. Varric caught up with them with ease, barely even breaking sweat from the run even with that huge crossbow, Bianca. “Things were getting exciting around here, and then I saw you two running.”

“Have you seen Osiris?” Edmond asked without looking, still keeping a brisk pace following the wolf.

“Not recently,” said Varric furrowing his brows, “I saw him coming out from the main hall hours ago, and was meaning to catch up with him myself.” He paused as another explosion sounded far off. “Shit, this really reminds me of the good ol’ times. Charging into the danger, while other people run the other way. Right, Sparkler?”

“Quite, ” said Dorian without much humor in his voice, “except this time, I’m hoping not to. Osiris may just be helping people out here somewhere. We’ll all have a big laugh, and let the happily married couple retire to their bedroom.” He shrugged, but his eyes remained hard. Edmond appreciated his friend’s optimism, however unconvincing it sounded. But he couldn’t stop his own mind from conjuring up much darker scenarios.

“But here we are,“ said Varric, shrugging, “running around with our weapons blazing AGAIN. Except this time, it’s the Teyrn of Ostwick, the Viscount of Kirkwall, and Tevinter Magister walking into… Shit, it almost sounds like a bad joke.”

Moro led them through windy passages surrounded by dense bushes and trees, until she finally stopped at a small clearing by the biggest tree, no other path leading out except the way they came. There, inches away from the wolf’s nose, Edmond saw Osiris’ dagger, lying lonely on the stony path. The jeweled hilt gleamed sinister under the moon. The pretty thing wasn’t built for fighting. Was it the only weapon Osiris had?

Upon closer inspection, there were droplets of blood, some smeared by footprints. There had been a fight. Edmond’s hand shook slightly and gripped his sword tighter, as he fought to control his anger. How dare they!

Dorian put a hand to Edmond’s shoulder, his face grim. “Let’s keep moving. We shall catch up,” he said, his voice calm. Edmond nodded, trying to regain his composure. But the spiral of despair was pulling him deeper. If something had happened to Osiris…   

The wolf picked up the trail once again, and led them away from the garden, to the abandoned section of the keep. There, the very air seemed to feel different. It was eerie, too quiet. Edmond was aware of this part of the keep, which was abandoned for longer than he remembered.

Even though he grew up here, he had hardly ever set foot in this part before. As a child, he was never allowed in here, with all the unstable stonework being too dangerous. As a grown-up, he simply had no reason to. Sure, there was always someone wanting to restore it to the ‘former glory’, whatever it meant, but Edmond had taken no heed, not wanting to spare any resources unnecessarily.

“Do you all feel the hairs on the back of your necks standing up, like something is watching us? Or am I imagining things?” said Varric.  

“I don’t like it,“ said Dorian in a hushed voice, “I can feel some magic around here. The veil seems to be thin. We must be wary.”

Even Edmond could feel the unnatural stillness that caused his skin to crawl. Even though the night was bright with the full moon, the shadows seemed to move just beyond his peripheral vision.

The wolf took them further into the ruined keep, where the crashes of the waves could be heard much closer. Edmond supposed they must be much nearer the cliffs to the sea, but all around he saw nothing but crumbling walls taken over by overgrown vegetation.

There was a tower near where the path had ended. It was strangely intact, standing tall among other broken structures. They easily found the entryway to the tower, a gap between the stonework wide enough for a man to pass through. The cobwebs around it were obviously disturbed. Recently.

There was a fresh smear of blood on one of the stones, cold and sticky upon the touch. The blood of his lover. The dark imaginations continued to haunt Edmond, now even worse than before, relentless and cruel. His blood boiled with the thought of vengeance upon those who he’d catch responsible.

No time for such thoughts now, Edmond let his fury smolder quietly. The wolf entered the tower first, and the rest followed in grim silence, up and over the broken stones that shone ghostly blue, lit by the moon that hovered over them through the broken roof. The crumbling spiral of stairs beckoned them into the darkness. A trap? Edmond was sure, but here was no choice except to go up.

* * *

 **Believe in You**   **(The wedding Part 4)** (written by slugette)

Osiris dreamt of unseen horrors, of gut wrenching fear that had no shape. He ran through endless corridors, into a ghostly arena. There, on the dirt ground, was Tristan’s head , like a carelessly discarded garbage. It was still bleeding from its neck, its eyes staring into nothing.

The elf tried to back away but was rooted to the spot. Afraid of the dead thing he was not, yet he held his breath when those dead eyes turned to look at him.

“You killed me,” it said, and it cackled, long and hard. Osiris struggled, unable to move, frustrated with the desire to kick the thing away. Except, upon closer inspection, it was not Tristan, but Edmond's yellow eyes that stared. It was Edmond’s voice that said those words.

“You killed me!”

Osiris woke screaming. Dread still too real, too raw. But he knew it had only been a dream. The recent memories that came flooding back were far worse than any nightmare.

Where was he now, and how long had he been out?

Osiris tried to get up, but found himself bound, with thin ropes digging painfully into his skin as he struggled. The coppery scent of blood hung heavily in the air, overpowering the other senses.

The prey instinct inside him screamed, bringing him to the state of nauseating panic, not only because of the blood, but something else too. Something... Wrong. He whipped his head around wildly, his breath shallow and irregular, his heart thumping out of his chest.

He blamed the dream, the pounding headache, and his fearful weak self, trembling like a child. He was the Herald of Andraste, the vanquisher of Corypheus, was he not? Surprisingly, the thought brought him calm.

It was well into the night, but Osiris could make out the stony interior illuminated by the pale moonlight coming through the broken ceiling. The room wasn't any larger than his quarters back at the Skyhold. There were bodies, not far from him, that he recognized as his captors, but only just.

From what he could make out, the corpses were torn apart. By some wild animals? Or demons, even. There was a large pool of blood underneath them, black in the dark, which was still spreading at a slow but steady rate. It happened recently, meaning - whatever did this couldn't be far away. He shivered, eyes wide with fear gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He had to find a way to escape.

Apart from a splitting headache and the sting from the cut on his shoulder, Osiris felt relatively ok. But the ropes bound him tight, impossible to loosen. Could there be something he could use?

Fanatic searching brought his attention to a sword, barely visible in the pool of blood. He recognized it to have belonged to his captors. It was only a couple of feet or so away. To reach it, the only option was to crawl, however undignified it seemed. He moved his whole body, wiggling awkwardly, pushing with his bound legs.

A slight movement in the corner of his eyes made him turn. Nothing. But he was sure there was someone, or something in the shadows, watching.

"E-edmond?" Osiris whispered, but felt foolish immediately after speaking. He realised how much he wished his husband to come and rescue him, right this instant.

 _Pathetic!_ He was a warrior, a hero! Not some damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. He redoubled his effort in trying to reach the sword, then he heard a raspy laughter.

"I've been greatly enjoying watching you squirm, but I’m afraid I must hurry things along, " said the voice like a nail scratching on a blackboard, making the hairs on the back of the elf’s neck stand.

"You are the one who killed them," said Osiris, trying to appear confident, but to his distress, his voice sounded shaky and high pitched. He bit down on his lower lip to hide the tremor. “Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"Questions, questions, all shall be answered in good time. But first, I am expecting some guests. We need to prepare for their arrival, you and I,” said the voice.

Osiris could make out the dark hooded figure now, holding a staff. A mage? Yes. With a low mumbling chant and a flick of the staff, the figure casted a spell.

Osiris squeezed his eyes shut and was engulfed with strange prickling sensation. To his utter astonishment, though, he found that the ropes binding him had burnt away.

Despite the momentary confusion of this sudden freedom, he seized the opportunity by reaching out and grabbing the sword. He stood on his feet, a whole lot more confident now with the reassuring weight of the weapon in his hand.

Fighting a mage at this state was suicide, but it was all or nothing now. Osiris ran, and turned the blade onto the hooded figure, arcing it towards the neck for a surprise attack, or so he hoped.

The blade stopped, only about an inch from the figure’s neck. No, there was no invisible barrier stopping the sword. The fault was his. Osiris realised his arm had stopped working, rather it had stopped responding to his wishes!

The hand holding the sword trembled, as the elf fought to regain control of it. In fact, he seemed to have lost the control over most of his body.

His legs took him near the corpses and made him sit. His hands scooped the blood from the floor and smeared it across his stomach, staining the white wedding garment. His body crumpled and froze, like he was wounded, but the hand clutched the sword, hidden by his own body but ready to strike.

The realisation dawned on him, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. He was to be the bait for the trap for his rescuer. Edmond!

“Yes, good. Congratulations on your wedding by the way. Shame it won’t last very long,” said the mage and laughed before disappearing once again into the shadows.

The quiet didn't last long before careful footsteps sounded just outside the door. Osiris tensed, wanting to shout a warning, but no sound came out of his throat.

Moro burst in through the door first, sniffed the air cautiously then bounded towards Osiris. The wolf stopped a few feet away and growled, showing her teeth. The elf was glad. The animal must have sensed something wrong.

Edmond entered shortly after, and his eyes widened as he saw Osiris. “Moro, get back!” he yelled as he ran towards the elf.

“Help me, my love. I am hurt,” Osiris’ own voice told Edmond. _No, it’s a trap!_ He wanted to scream, but he only saw the concern overwhelming his husband’s face. Edmond sheathed his sword and knelt in front of him, touching the side of his face.

“My soul, I thought... “ Edmond started, but his words were cut short by Moro biting the hem of his doublet and pulling him back. At the same time, Osiris’ sword struck, aimed at the man’s heart, but slicing through his right arm instead. Edmond staggered back, clutching at his wound, his yellow eyes wide with surprise, and perhaps betrayal.

Without wasting any time, Osiris’ body launched into a series of deadly attacks, forcing Edmond to defend himself. The human blocked with his sword still in its sheath. Through tears, Osiris saw blood dripping down Edmond’s arm at an alarming rate, and knew that the blood loss would claim him before long.

Osiris felt his heart about to burst, agonising to regain control over his body, but it kept on moving against his will, every single hit aimed to kill.

“Blood magic!” shouted Dorian, “a powerful one. Osiris is being mind-controlled!” He then casted a barrier magic that blanketed his companions in blue light.

“Can you reverse it?” Edmond shouted at Dorian, struggling visibly but still not drawing his blade.

Before the magister could answer, demons appeared, screeching and shrieking as they seemed to materialise out of thin air.

The nearest one tried to attach Edmond, but Moro intercepted it with her fangs beared. Another one got close to Dorian, but it shrieked as the volley of crossbow bolts cut through its face, spilling a foul smelling black icor before vanishing.

“Andraste’s tits! I knew this shitty little adventure would somehow end with demons,” Varric spat, reloading Bianca. “I got them, Sparkler. You do something about the blood magic.” More demons came through but the dwarf and the wolf somehow kept them at bay, for now.

“Dorian!” Edmond growled, somehow successfully defending himself without hurting Osiris. Even with his superior swordsmanship, one could easily see he was hard pressed.

“I am working on it! It is not as easy as I make it look! I shall need full concentration,” said Dorian, already busy weaving his staff into intricate patterns of light. He turned towards the shadows in the corner. “Show yourself!”

“Very well,” said the shadows, solidifying into a dark figure. A gesture hurled an unseen force towards Dorian, making him stumble back but otherwise unhurt. The mages engaged into an earnest battle of will, impossible for an ordinary spectator to follow, looking like some mystic light show at best. Judging by the pained look on Dorian’s face, though, it was a close one.

“Watch out!” Osiris cried out as his own sword narrowly missed slicing through Edmond’s leg, who jumped away. His eyes were wide with newfound hope. Whatever Dorian was doing, it was working!

“You can speak,” said Edmond but he kept his guard up. The warriors circled each other.

“I.. I still c-can’t control.. myself.” shouted Osiris, his speech halting and stuttering, while his body executed a perfect lunge with the sword.

Edmond side-stepped away and said, “You must keep trying,” and continued after another near miss, “my soul,” then he stepped back and blocked with the sheathed sword that shuddered. “I’m fine,” but he was tiring visibly. Even in the dark, Osiris could make out the large patch of red spreading on his white wedding garment.

“Ma’fen, you need to fight back, before.. before you bleed out, please, ” Osiris said, no, he begged, while his body continued the deadly assault. He was trying as hard as he could! His hand trembled. Slight hesitation in his steps. Was he doing it? Or just fatigue?

Osiris’ mind was foggy, and he couldn’t feel anything from the neck down, let alone making anything happen. His body had become a puppet, and he wasn’t the one holding the strings. He thought he heard Dorian’s voice, muffled as if he’s in the water. “You must break free! The blood magic is losing its hold. Now it is up to the power of your will.”   

Osiris focused his efforts into stopping the sword as Edmond leaped back, trying to put a distance between them. “I shall not hurt you. You can break free of the spell,” said the man. Foolish, sentimental, stubborn man.

Osiris’s heart was going to burst with fear, unlike any he had ever felt. His own hand was going to kill the man he loved. He reached out through the fog, trying to find the connection, the control. It was almost tangible. If only he could grasp it. His hand trembled once again, but it wasn’t enough. Edmond ducked as his sword drew an arc through where the man’s neck would have been a moment ago.

“I can’t! Ma’fen, please!” Osiris screamed, and bit his lip as hard as he could. The taste of blood filled his mouth as the pain sent a jolt into his brain.

At the same time, Edmond threw down his sword and knelt, without taking his eyes off of the elf.

“My soul, I believe in you, “ he said.

Osiris shouted, “NO! What are you doing?!” But he knew. Love and trust. Unconditional. Did he believe in himself as much as Edmond did?

The elf’s green eyes, wide with fear, followed the tip of his sword as it traveled in a slow motion towards Edmond’s heart. No, he did not trust himself.

Resignation and guilt spread inside him, fueling the fog that enslaved his body. Whirling and howling the fog gripped him in its tendrils tighter. But this couldn’t be how it ends! He suddenly felt angry, at himself more than anything.

This anger... He could use it.

Osiris shouted out, as all the rage inside him burnt away the fog.

The spell lifted, by his fury, caused by the very love and trust given to him by his lover. Or perhaps it was sheer desperation, Osiris couldn’t tell, but his arm stopped. The tip of the sword only an inch away from Edmond.

With a shaky hand, the sword dropped to the stone floor. Osiris threw himself into Edmond's arms. The couple embraced, for the first time since they exchanged their wedding vows.

"Beautiful, really, but some help will be much appreciated," said Varric, reaping backwards in a surprisingly nimble fashion from a large demon, peppering it with crossbow bolts.

Osiris and Edmond separated, rather reluctantly, and picked their swords back up. Together, they despatched the demons with ease, and turned their attention to the mages.

Alone and outnumbered, the blood mage stood, the moonlight outlining the silhouette with sinister blue white glow.

"Impressive," said the hooded figure. "It seems we underestimated you."

"Surrender, mage!" Edmond said without hiding the venom in his voice. "And tell us of the others involved then..."

"Then what? You would spare me?" The mage interrupted, cackling. "It's been fun but I regret it is time for us to part. We shall meet again. I am sure of it." With that, the figure dissipated into the shadows, scurrying like a great swarm of insects.

Dorian sighed, and got down on his knees, "Kafas! That was a close one! If it wasn't for my expertise in dealing with blood magic, and your will to break free of the mind control, we would have been done for."

"Well done, Sparkler," said Varric wiping black ichor from his brow. "I honestly thought we would be done with demons, blood magic, and all that horse shit. Boy, was i wrong!"

“Thank you, “ said Osiris, “all of you. Except that was bloody reckless how you threw down the sword like that! If I failed to regain control…” The elf told his husband, shuddering while letting the sentence trail into the place where he really didn’t want to go.

Edmond raised his eyebrow as he finished tying a crude bandage around his bleeding arm. “I was certain you wouldn’t fail, ” and he wrapped his other arm around Osiris and kissed him on the forehead. “And I was right, as always.”

Osiris rolled his eyes, but his lips slowly curled into a smile as he leaned his head onto Edmond’s shoulder. He felt safe there, bone tired, but safe.

“Let’s just get back,” said Osiris and they did just that, as the sky was turning rosy with the dawn’s first light.  

 


	11. Teyrns of Ostwick

 

  **Dust and Ashes -** _Part 1_ (written by Sluah)

Heads nodded and voices hummed in agreement, but only courteous solemnity kept the inebriating bloodlust in check as several men and women, war gods already bathed in glory and pride, gestured and pointed around a large table.

“Their supplies are running short, Your Imperial Majesty,” a tall bald man in a dark armor said as Edmond slightly inclined his head to rub his eyes. Lord Trevelyan felt dizzy, like the world around him had just stopped spinning and he was still trying to keep his balance. He blinked several times as the man continued “Gaspard will have no choice but to…”

“Tired, ma’fen?” came Osiris’ soft whisper close to Edmond’s ear. Like a port in a storm, his voice made Lord Trevelyan’s vision focus and the world fall back into place. Dressed casually in regal dark green garments, with long red hair loose down his shoulders, the elf smiled supportively and caressed his husband’s face, “maybe we had enough strategy for one night?”

“Yes, I must be tired,” Edmond answered, still disoriented as he looked around the huge military tent where several of his most trusted advisors were assembled around the large table, on which a detailed map of the Orlesian territory laid open, stabbed with several markers strategically placed. A grand banner with the Trevelyan coat of arms hung in the back, guarded on either side by a heavy armored soldier with their weapons ready at hand. “Thank you, we’ll continue this tomorrow,” Lord Trevelyan said; and one by one, the warlords bowed to their Imperial Majesties before leaving. Edmond knew he trusted each of them, but couldn’t quite remember why.

He leaned over the war table and studied the map laid before him. That was his own strategy, of that he had no doubt, it bore his distinctive touch. But something felt wrong. Edmond knew, rather than remembered, he had spent months perfecting it. This was his ultimate battle, the one that would make him the lord of all. Yet…

“Stop worrying, ma’fen.” Osiris said as he embraced Edmond from behind, resting his head against the human’s back while his hand ventured teasingly inside Edmond’s trousers. Long warm fingers descended slowly, brushing the warrior’s skin ever so lightly, as Osiris purred “Val Royeux will fall soon. And then Orlais is no more.” The human Lord raised an eyebrow and smiled ravenously as the elf started to caress him intimately, “And you’ll be the Emperor of all of Thedas”.

“WE’ll be the emperors of all of Thedas, my soul”, Edmond breathed as he inclined his head slightly back, “but we’ll still have to deal with Gaspard before the war is won.”

“Will you kill him?” the elf murmured softly in the human’s ear, as his hand speeded and his grip intensified.

Edmond closed his eyes and moaned “Yes, I will.”

“How?”

Edmond held Osiris’ hand and turned around to face the elf, his yellow eyes burning dangerously. “How would you like me to do it?”

“Kiss me” Osiris urged as his wet red lips parted, begging to be claimed. Edmond could never refuse him, he leaned in as Osiris closed his eyes, and ran his fingers up the back of his husband’s neck though his blood red hair. Then with a swift unwavering movement, he plunged a dagger deep into the elf’s ribs. And as his lips brushed Osiris’, Edmond hushed “Don’t you think I would know my own husband?”

Osiris’ eyes widened in pain as he gasped for air. “Ma’fen…?” he tried to say but his voice faltered and a wisp of a shriek escaped the elf’s lips.

“As much as I was enjoying the conversation,” Edmond said, sadistically savouring each small turn of his wrist, “I want to know where my husband is. Did you hurt him?”

A high ear-piercing cry erupted from Osiris’ lips as his form started to crack. Small breaches appeared all over his body, revealing a pulsing green aura that burned brighter as the elf screamed. Then, as suddenly as it started, Osiris fell silent and shattered from the inside, exploding into a cloud of green ashes that swirled all around Edmond.

A heartbeat later, the tent too burst and turned to dust. As if swept by an inexistent wind, ash and dust joined in with the dancing, ever growing cloud of green. Edmond took a few steps back, finding himself in a twisted black rocky landscape, blurring with light and darkness, frighteningly familiar.

He did not have time to look around, however. The massive cloud materialized into a huge demon that immediately launched itself at the warrior, talons reaching out fast as a viper. Edmond stood his ground and reached for the sword on his belt, only to realise, a second too late, that whatever he was dressed in, he was unarmed apart from the small dagger.

Without a second’s thought the warrior reacted instinctively; he spun half a pirouette and jumped aside as the demon’s talon sliced through the air just a fraction of an inch from Edmond’s chest.

He had no weapons or armor, but there had to be something he could use. He searched his surroundings as he dodged once again, taking the opportunity to deal a hard blow to the side of the demon’s head with his bare fist. Unfortunately, but as expected, it didn’t do more than to infuriate the beast. This was not a fight he could win unarmed.

But there was nothing in sight. Nothing Edmond could use to defend himself. No weapon, not even a rock. He was in the fade. In a clearing, a sort of an island in the midst of the dream sky, with nowhere to run, emptiness all around apart from a small path reaching up.

Once again, Edmond dodged the long claws of the demon, while he tried to decide his next move. He kept backing away, jumping out of reach and changing his direction, always trying to match the beast’s speed. He kept retreating step after step, until he was caught between the monster and the edge of the cliff.

This was were their game ended. This was where Edmond would make his stand.

The demon slowed down. It knew the prey was caught. The creature approached calmly, hovering towards the trapped warrior. Edmond backed away some more, the final steps. Until finally, his heel touched nothing but air.

Everything would be settled in the demons’ next attack.

The warrior’s breath stopped and the twisted world of the fade seemed to narrow as the demon launched itself at him. He would only have a mere second, but it would be long enough to hold a life time. Edmond remembered Osiris’ laugh, that spontaneous burst of laughter that made his eyes sparkle and his cheeks burn red. That sound, that sight were Edmond’s whole life.

The talons were close to his throat as the warrior grabbed the demon’s arm and pulled it forward, jumping to the side at the last second. As Edmond hoped, the creature, taken by surprise, lost it’s balance and fell into the abyss.

The infernal shriek reverberated lower and lower down the cliff as Edmond Trevelyan caught his breath. This had to be one of his most fallible plans. He looked up to the dream weavered road that continued out of sight. Osiris would be somewhere beyond it.

 

* * *

  **Dream a little Dream -** _Part 2 (written by Slugette)_

 

Osiris sat bolt upright, half tangled in sweat soaked sheets. His head spun, and his heart pounded a thousand times a second. He had to run. There had been something awful. Dangerous. He had to…

He groaned, sinking his forehead into his palms.

Did he just have a nightmare? A cold shiver ran down his spine, despite the warmth of the sunlight. Yes, it must have been a terrible dream. But he was home now. Safe in his bed, wasn’t he?

He rubbed his face with both his hands, which felt rather odd. Wrong, even. He just couldn’t put his finger on why.

“Are you ok, my love?” said a concerned voice next to him.

A female voice. So familiar, yet it took him a while to put a name to this voice.

“Bellanaris?“ he said the name out loud as he looked upon a beautiful elven woman, her golden hair tangled against soft pillows, glittering in the sunlight. The sight of her lying naked next to him, her scent, made him immediately choke up.

Why? He couldn’t even begin to fathom. What stirred up his emotions so, that made him react this way after seeing his own wife he’d been married for years? “I… yes, i am ok, i think. I-I don’t know,” Osiris stuttered.

“Shhh, You must have had a nightmare, my love, “ said Bella, snuggling into his arms. “whatever it was, it is over. You are now here with me, and I shall keep you safe.” she grinned, playfully trailing her finger from his chest down towards his belly.

“Uhh, yes, “ said Osiris, jerking away from her and sitting up. Her touch.. It didn’t feel right somehow. His head spun dangerously, and for a moment, everything shimmered and became green and fuzzy, before turning back into normal almost in an instant.

He was inside an aravel. His own aravel, that had been his home for many years. Nothing happened that would have explained his current state of, quite mildly put, a slight confusion.

Osiris swept his hair back, and tied it in a bun in a practiced motion. He then rubbed the corner of his left eye, the skin smooth and without a scar. Wait, why did he expect to have a scar there?

“Come here,” said Bella sensing his confusion, gently cupping his face and turning it towards her own. Then she kissed him, her full supple lips tasting of wild berries, like they always had. Yet, the kiss also felt… wrong. He pushed her away. Abruptly. Maybe too violently. Bella took a step back, her beautiful hazel eyes wide, questioning.

What the fuck was wrong with him? “I am sorry!” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I don’t know what came over me! It’s just… everything seems… out of place, somehow. I feel like I am not meant to be here.”

“Such nonsense, my love,” said Bella, with a smile that was as radiant as hundred suns. “You are just confused - it must be the nightmare you had. This life… it is meant to be just like this. Everything we ever wanted. “

“Everything we ever wanted,” Osiris whispered after her, his eyes far away as he tried to remember something, or someone…very important. It was almost within his grasp. Almost…

“Remember to get the boys ready for hunting with us today,” said Bella, as if reading his mind. “This is a perfect day for hunting, and they were so excited about this for days!”

“Our… boys?” Ah, of course, this must have been it. Everything started to fall into place, and Osiris found himself smiling. How did he even forget about his own children!

Their aravel was on a perfect little spot by the stream, sheltered by trees and bushes, offering complete privacy from the bulk of the Lavellan, yet quite close to them at the same time. The air smelled like wildflowers, and birds sang on nearby trees. Osiris wiped tears from his eyes when two small red haired boys stopped playing and rushed into his arms.

Oddly sentimental today, he scolded himself and shrugged off the melancholy.

This was exactly how it should be, but the feeling of loss, that something was missing, was still there. Osiris decided not to dwell on it. No time to worry about such nonsense, not when the day was so perfect, and there were much to be done, with two of his own hands.

 

 

* * *

 Shattered illusions **-** _Part 3 (written by Sluah)_

A fresh breeze carrying the scent of spring brushed softly past Edmond’s loose raven hair as the unarmed warrior reached the top of what seemed an ever climbing path. Stones of black and green suddenly gave way to thick trees and high ferns guarding the privacy of a small meadow. An unexpected early morning sunlight peeking through the blossoming branches caught the Lord of Ostwick off guard, blinding him for a second as he stealthily stepped into the illusionary foliage at the same time as a childish laugh rang close over the sound of a running stream. **  
**

“No, not like that.” Osiris’ voice came from somewhere up ahead, cheerful and light, as Edmond pushed aside several leaves and branches until he had his husband in sight. “The right hand goes here and the left one there.” Unharmed and with the peaceful, jovial glow Edmond had so rarely seen, Osiris was kneeling in front of an ornamented Aravel whose bright silk hoods danced to the soft tune of the wind, placing a wooden sword correctly in the hands of a small red haired elven boy that grinned as he took a swing in the air.

“You can’t hunt with a sword!” another childish voice said, in a confident, almost arrogant tone. A taller, older elven boy, that also shared Osiris’ red hair and freckled complexion, stepped into the clearing from the behind bushes, just a few steps from where Edmond was hiding out of nowhere.

“Babae does,” the smaller one answered immediately.

“Well, I already caught this,” the older boy said,  triumphantly showing  a small rabbit, “and got him on my first shot.”

“Oh! I’m impressed!” Osiris laughed as he got up. “You’re just like your mother!”

Edmond shifted uncomfortably in his hiding place, starting to guess what sort of repressed wish the demon conjured from the back of Osiris’ mind. But just as he was about to step into the clearing and retrieve his husband, a tall blond haired female elf appeared from behind the Aravel. “Are you boys done playing yet?” She was slender and lithe, but even the small gesture of throwing a longbow over her shoulder was as graceful as it was precise.  “Can we go and hunt some lunch now?”

Osiris laughed once again, the same pure crystal laugh he could never hold back when he was truly happy. “Shall we?” she asked as she tip toed to kiss Osiris’ lips. A spark of unfamiliar rage burst to life inside Edmond as Osiris surrendered to the kiss and enveloped the elven woman’s thin waist with just one arm lifting her softly from her feet, as he tenderly adored the skin of her cheek with the tip of his fingers.

“Osiris!” Edmond called out, unprepared and without a plan, stepping into the meadow as anger burned  across his veins like wildfire . He knew, of course, nothing he was seeing was true. The fade created and wavered from memories, these were nothing but hopes and dreams. Osiris’ hopes and dreams.

Edmond felt cheated, robbed, humiliated as a second choice. He couldn’t help but remember that the desire conjured from the depth of his own mind had Osiris by his side. His promise and love were never forsaken. All he had and all he was he offered to Osiris, and even in the fade, the demons could find no part of him that ever considered ruling the world without Osiris by his side.

Osiris dream, his perfect little paradise, however, was the life in which Edmond would never have existed.

The elven woman - no, the demon passing as an elven woman- turned around first. She gazed upon the human lord with feral eyes and then swiftly, with feline grace,  took her hand to the quill and reached for an arrow.

Osiris turned around immediately after. His hair was all tied behind his back, for he didn’t have a scar on his face he needed to hide. But it was his eyes that felt different, staring harshly upon Edmond as an intruder, a stranger. Instinctively, the elf’s hand reached for the large sword on his back, but stopped before holding the grip. “Osiris, listen to me,” the human said.

“That is close enough”, the elven woman, Bellanaris, said as she got an arrow ready and pointed it at Edmond. “You are not welcome. Turn around and leave us be.”

“It’s a shem, take him down, babae” the older child said excitedly.

“We are in the fade,” Edmond continued as he took yet another step, staring deep into his husband’s green eyes, hoping for a small glimpse of remembrance, “This is a dream.”  Three demons and just one sword in Osiris’ back. Would Osiris help him fight them?

“What do you want here? Who are you?” Osiris asked furrowing his brows, with his tone more curious than hostile.

Edmond stopped, shocked at the sound of those words even if he was expecting to hear them.  What could he answer to such estrangeness? Your husband? The one you whispered of love? Someone who would search the whole fade for you? Someone you forgot. He stared silently at Osiris, all possible answers casted aside as his rage melted away. “You really don’t remember me, my soul?”  No accusation. No anger. Just sorrow.

“W-what, what did you just call me?” Osiris’ eyes widened and his lips parted, as if those words slowly echoed somewhere beyond dreams and illusions. He lowered his hand reaching for the sword and a thousand lives seemed to flash through his eyes.

“I… “ Osiris hesitated. He turned around immediately, as if awaken and looked at Bellanaris. Then he looked at Edmond again, but just as he was about to speak, the elven woman released the string and Edmond took a step back as an arrow pierced his shoulder.

“Ma’fen!” Osiris screamed as he rushed towards towards him. “Just… just hold still,” he said as he leaned in to help with the wound. But just as his left hand reached out and touched Edmond, the elf’s fingers started to glow, flashing with a green aura, so similar to the anchor he once wielded. Osiris looked at his hand as his veins pulsed with green light that spread to his wrist, then up his his arm. Gasping, lips trembling, Osiris faltered staring at his hand, paralyzed.

The elf looked at Edmond, terrified, begging him to make it stop, as fell to his knees holding his hand. The tip of his fingers turned black and a scent of burned flesh filled the air as Osiris started to scream, desperate and in pain.

Edmond rushed to embrace him, but he couldn’t offer any comfort for the three demons were approaching, still in their elven form but with a different gaze. Predators closing in for the hunt.

There was no time. The human gritted his teeth as he held the arrow with his wounded arm and broke it with a fast snap, breathing painful but silently. “It will be over soon, my soul” Edmond said as he took the long sword from the elf’s back. But just as he was about to engage with the enemies closing in, he gasped and hesitated, for Osiris’ hand was slowly starting to melt. Blood and gore dripping to the floor as the elf cried out.

“Babae, help us!” the younger elf cried and begged, just before he and his brother clashed against Edmond, assuming their true form at the last minute and slashing the wounded warrior across the face and chest with their talons. That was their mistake. Just as their blow hit, Lord Trevelyan’s great blade cleaved through them, leaving but their screeches echoing around the clearing.

“Osiris, please,” Bellanaris cried out as she released another arrow just before the two demons turned to ashes.

“You’re not her!” Osiris half screamed, half murmured. Kneeling where he fell, enveloping his left handless arm protectively against his chest, Osiris whispered “Bella’s dead… You’re not her.”

Edmond took the opportunity to close quarters with the elf demon while she was reaching for another arrow. He charged, attacking head on. If the wound on his shoulder, where half the arrow was still buried deep, was hurting, he took no notice.

With no range to shoot, Bellanaris drew a graceful pirouette backwards, while letting her bow drop to the floor, and unsheathed a sword from her back. With impossible speed, she launched herself at Edmond, her long elven blade aiming at the human’s unarmored throat.

Edmond stood his ground and but let a small victorious smile paint his lips. He did not need to take a step back, but with a small, precise movement deflected her blade effortlessly and slashed the female elf across her thin body.

Bellanaris didn’t cry out as she dropped her sword and fell to the ground, bleeding heavily, “The wolf is going to kill us,” she begged again, still not changing to her true form. “Ma vhenan, please!” she called out, her voice failing as blood poured through her fingers over her decorated dalish corset.

“Enough!” Edmond said. He raised Osiris’ long sword and cut off her head with a swift strike. The blond head rolled slightly as it fell to the floor and Edmond realised a second too late that Osiris was no longer avoiding the fight, but staring, petrified, with eyes open wide and lips parted. Just a second too late and already dead blue eyes were facing Osiris’ as Edmond’s blade dripped false blood.

Edmond dropped the sword and took his husband in his arms, as he had done so many times before, holding him close, shielding and comforting him the best he could. But something felt wrong, different, no matter how close Edmond held him, Osiris had drifted away.

“I am so sorry, my soul.” he whispered. But what was he sorry for? That Osiris witnessed his wife die one more time? That Edmond has been the one killing her? That the demon used Osiris’ deepest longing against him? That Edmond couldn’t fill the void Bellanaris had left?

For a second, the human lord almost believed his husband too would turn into ash and this had been another trick of the fade. He almost wished it to be. Anger and sadness had set truce in bitterness, Edmond had given Osiris all he had and all he was. But he never asked for the same in return and the elf never offered. Edmond had assumed their feelings to be the same. He believed himself too to be Osiris’ soul, even if never heard him say so. He had had no doubt he was Osiris’ true love, that they were meant to be together. He never stopped to consider, to question, to doubt. He painted reality as seen through his own eyes and never considered it could have different colors.

No matter their intention or that such vision bad been conjured by demons, the fade had allowed him to see into Osiris’ heart more truthfully than his own partial perception could ever have allowed. Osiris loved Bellaris once as much as Edmond now loved him. There could never be someone to replace Osiris in Edmond’s heart, as no one would ever replace Bellanaris. Edmond had found his soul too late. “I’m sorry” he whispered again.

He kissed Osiris’ hair and embraced him until the elf stopped shaking. “It’s over” Edmond said as he lifted Osiris’ chin to face him. He caressed his husband’s cheek and rested his forehead against Osiris’, fearing his feeling might betray him before he kept them in check. “Now let’s find a way to go home.”

“No,” Osiris’ said as he stood up, his face hardening as he looked again to where Bellanaris body had been, “let’s find the fucker who brought us here.”


	12. Elladan

**A night as quiet as any other (part 1)** (written by Sluah)

It was a rainy winter afternoon when a little raven haired boy, dressed casually like a prince, pushed open a very large and heavy wooden door to check if the room was empty. He knew he shouldn’t play inside his parents bedroom, but it was such an adventure every time he entered. He had just finished his lessons for the day and he couldn’t go outside because of the rain, nor could he go in his own room because his big brother would be there.  

So he ventured into the forbidden once again. He had come into that room before, but he knew better than to touch anything, he always kept his tiny hands behind his back like a good boy; only tip toeing to look at the things on the bedside table or on the desk.

Fast, heavy steps on the corridor outside told him he was in trouble. Someone was sure to come in and ground him and Edmond hated being grounded. He ran to the large mahogany closet and hid inside, determined to wait until it was safe.

A slim, sun tanned women, with long black hair braided with silver threads, entered the room and locked the door behind her.

_Oh no! It was his mother. He was going to be caught!_

As the woman backed away slowly towards the bed facing the door, 4 year old Edmond cowered in the midst of the long court outfits and peeked through the slightly ajar wardrobe door.

A loud bang in the bedroom door made both of them jump. Edmond put the lower part of a gown over his head and his mother ran to pick up a table chandelier.

“You open this door right now, woman!!”, came the angry voice of Edmond’s father, Lord and Teyrn of Ostwick, from outside the room. Each word came accompanied with another loud bang, almost like a punch on the door. “Open this door, or Maker help you…”

The boy’s lips began to tremble. He wanted to cry but he was too afraid of being discovered, so he covered his mouth with his small hands to make sure no sound came out. _He didn’t break anything_ , he wanted to tell them, _he never even touched anything._

When he was about to come out of his hiding place and tell his mother he would behave now, that he would never come inside this room again, his father kicked the door open and entered.

“Don’t come near me!”, the boy’s mother screamed, holding the heavy chandelier like a sword. Her voice was loud and high, so different from what little Edmond was used to. More than his father’s angry tone or his heavy expression, it was her desperate voice that truly scared the boy.

Edmond didn’t understand how it happened, because he couldn’t decide if he wanted to see or close his eyes, but his father was the one holding the table chandelier now and he slapped Edmond’s mother hard across the face, sending her flying through the bed.

She tried to run away, but the Lord Teyrn caught her as she got up. He took his huge hands to her long neck and began to crush her throat. She parted her lips and widened her eyes as she tried to hit with her weak wrists the heavy thick arms of her warrior husband.

Edmond wanted to run to his mother. He wanted to help her, but he couldn’t move. He was too scared. He just stared at his parents, silently, not even realising he was wetting himself.

Then as easily as he started, the Lord Teyrn let his wife go and she fell to the floor. Her lips parted, her big yellow eyes staring blankly in the direction of the closet. And without a second glance to his wife or the slightly opened wardrobe, the Lord of Ostwick stepped over her and got out.

Edmond stayed there, unmoving, with dried tears around his eyes and a cry choking his throat. And he didn’t move or make a sound when servants came to pick up her body.

—–

Gasping for air, Edmond Trevelyan, now the Teyrn of his own right, jolted up in his bed and took his hands to his sweat soaked face. He was sure he had screamed. He turned his face towards Osiris to make sure he didn’t wake up his husband, but there was no one at his side. Only a startled orange cat gazed upon him from the end of the bed, upset for having been so rudely awaken.

Edmond got up, fully awake, and walked towards the large window of his bedroom. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was still dark outside, Osiris and the child were probably sleeping in the next room.

It was for the best, he thought as he leaned his forehead against the cold glass of his bedroom window, he didn’t feel like talking right now.

He put a thick cloak over his shoulders and stepped out of the keep. He didn’t need to think where he wanted to go. His troubled steps always took him to the same place, as if guided by the Marchen blood he was so proud of.

Edmond shivered with the bite of the cold night wind that, like a sharp blade through an armour, pierced his cloak and nightgowns as he crossed the cobbled beach. He stopped and stared at the black ocean, entranced by the lullaby sung by the waves.

Everything was as quiet as usual. The night was just as dark and the wind was just as cold as it was any other day, yet the Lord of Ostwick felt a weight bearing heavier on his shoulders and found it difficult to breathe as if the invisible hands, his father’s hands, were crushing his throat from the past.

Just that afternoon, hours ago, his world had changed. Edmond wondered, as he stepped into the freezing water and entered the black sea, if Osiris had noticed it too.

 

* * *

 

**The story of Loraine (Part 2)** (written by Slugette)

 “Come on, Loraine. The more of us turn up, the better chance the Bann would listen to us,” said Doris, who’d been working in the kitchen with her for the past two years. For an elven scullery maid, Doris had too much fire in her eyes, full of ideals. That fire would be the death of her one day, Loraine thought and envied her, for her own was dull with monotonous practicalities of everyday life.  **  
**

“I doubt it. Just let things be. Nothing we ever do changes anything,” said Loraine, fishing out the last dish from the soapy tub and scrubbing it vigorously.

“But the Teyrn’s new law entitles us to…”

“Oh shush about the Teyrn, will you?” Loraine interrupted, rolling her eyes. Ever since Lord Trevelyan married the Herald of Andraste, Doris assumed a faraway starry eyes whenever she referred to ‘the Teyrn’. “Yes, he is an elf, but you forget that he is a Dalish, from some magical forest with their ‘superior’ mystical ways. He is NOT like us. He knows nothing about what it’s like here.”

“But he cares, Lorie! He will make everything better.”

“No. Even if he does care, he is only one elf, surrounded by shems. He tries now, I’d give him that, but sooner or later…”

Doris snatched the dish Loraine’s been scrubbing. “Don’t you dare say that! You’re always a skeptic. At least come to the protest with me today. For me?”

Loraine dried her rough hands with a dish towel, and rolled her neck back and forth trying to get some kinks out. She had been bent over doing the dishes for hours now, and going out to some fool’s errand was not what she had in mind on her only afternoon off for the week. She gave Doris a dark look, but nodded her head with a dramatic sigh. Demanding equal pay for the elves? No way, but the least she could do was to support her friend by being there.

“Thanks Lorie,” said Doris, her eyes sparkling of hope. “Will you take Elladan?”

“No,” said Loraine, heading out the door, “Come and get me when you’re ready to go, ok?”

* * *

Loraine’s “home” was a room inside a small shack she shared with others. The tiny room had one window that leaked whenever it rained, one rickety dresser, and two little cots; one for her and the other for her five year old son, Elladan, who was nowhere to be seen. Typical! He’d be playing outside alone, some wild and fantastic game he conjured up on his own. She was about to go out to find him when a boy with identical ginger hair as her came bursting in.

“Mama, Mama! Guess what I found today!” he yelled, his face bright like the sun despite all the dirt and grime covering it. He held, with both his hands, a stick, like some kind of a holy object. “It’s a sword! See? I can hold it here, and this other bit’s sharp! I’m gonna fight bad guys, ” he paused to swish the stick a few times in the air, miraculously avoiding knocking over any objects in their tiny room, “and the demons too! Just with one hand, like the Herald!”  

Loraine laughed at that. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken him to see the parade after the Teyrns’ wedding. “That’s great, but I’d rather you kept both of your hands. And you should be careful with the sharp bit,” she said and licked her thumb to wipe some grime off her son’s face.

“Eww, stop it, Mama,” said Elladan, wrinkling his tiny nose, which made Loraine laugh. He was growing too fast. She’d much rather spend the precious afternoon off work with him, but she already told Doris she’d come.

“Listen, I need to be out this afternoon with Doris, but will be back in time for dinner, ok?”

Elladan didn’t miss a beat. “Can I come too?” Here we go. She expected that, but she couldn’t take him to the protest. The shems would frown upon them, no, they’d surely spit on them, at the very least. She would not expose her little son to the injustice and hatred in this world. Not yet.

“No. You shall stay here. I’ll ask granny Bellana to look after you.”

“But Mama! I will be good! I don’t wanna go to granny Bellana’s. She smells funny.”

“Oh, Elladan. I know you’re good. It’s just that it won’t be much fun for you. I promise I’ll be back soon. Just stay here if you don’t want to go to granny’s.”

“Al’right, mama,” said Elladan, shoulders slumped. Loraine held him in her arms, only too briefly, before the brisk knock on the door told her it was time to go.

* * *

The elves gathered in the little square inside the alienage. The human soldiers were already present, fully armed and menacing despite the small numbers. Apparently, the elves had made too much noise.

“We deserve the equal rights!” shouted one of the elves, which spread into a chant, “Equal rights! Equal rights!…”

Loraine stood on the edge of the crowd, shuffling her feet. Her eyes shifted nervously towards the human soldiers, that seemed to have grown in numbers. Doris was already in the thick of it all, chanting and pumping her fist in the air. Such an idealist…. She almost jumped when a small hand tugged at her skirt from behind. She spun around and her heart sank.

“Elladan! Did you come following me? But, I told you not to!” Loraine shouted over the noise of the crowd, kneeling down to see the boy eye to eye. Elladan’s eyes were too large, scared. She immediately regretted shouting at him.

“I just wanted to come with you. I am sorry, mama,” said the boy, looking around, tears welling in his large hazel eyes.

There were more angry shouts, profanities. Loraine no longer cared about whatever cause she was supposed to be supporting. “Let’s just go home,” she said, softer this time.

As she turned around to leave, a little hand held tight in her own, she noticed the soldiers were now behind the crowd as well as the front. They were completely surrounded. Why? she thought, and then it all happened at once.

Someone in the crowd threw something at the soldiers. A fruit? A stone? It was hard to tell, then more projectiles, similarly harmless, were launched. But she saw a human soldier notching an arrow into the bow. Strange how the time seems to slow down in such moments. Horror gripped her into a complete stasis. He drew the string, as she stopped breathing, her eyes wide.

And he let it go.

The arrow flew, the first of many more to come. Loraine bent over to shield her son without even thinking. Someone screamed, and everyone started running, shouting, all at once, to different directions. Chaos!

Loraine picked up Elladan at once, wrapping his tiny body in front of her, and shielding him as best as she could from deadly arrows and pressing bodies. An elf, who’d been standing next to her, fell with a heavy thud, an arrow sprouting from his neck. She screamed, holding tighter onto her child. She had to take him to safety!

Loraine looked around, frantically, and found a broken down wagon on the edge of her vision.  The tiny gap underneath it where the wheel broke off was big enough for a small child. Perfect. The arrows kept flying, and more people screamed and fell. She ran, praying to Andraste to save them. She almost made it to the wagon, and something hit her very hard on her back. She lurched forward, stumbling. She almost fell on top of Elladan, but she managed to push him underneath the wagon at the last moment before going face first into the cobblestones.

She crawled, her breath halting in pain. Blood, warm and sticky covered her torso, as she pulled herself up, blocking the gap under the wagon with her own body.

“S-stay there, and don’t come out!” she said, looking at her small child, curled into a ball in the dark. She could hear him cry, and she offered him her shaking hand. He’d be safe in there. Andraste protect him!

“Mama.. are you hurt? I’m sorry I followed!” said the boy between the sobs. His small hand reached out to hold hers. It hurt so much, so difficult to breathe, but she tried a smile. Her eyes, hazy from pain, focused briefly on the blank dead eyes of her friend Doris, lying in the middle of the square among the corpses of other elves. All was quiet now. “Mama, I wanna go home.. Mama?”  

“Shh.. quiet..  Mama’s al’right.. stay there…be safe..  b-be…  brave.. “ she whispered her last words as the small hand held onto hers. Who would look after him when she’s gone? Andraste please watch over him, she thought before death released her from the pain.   

 

* * *

 

******Hazel, not yellow, eyes (Part 3)**  (written by Sluah)

The sun was ready to descend into the freezing waters of the sea on that late winter afternoon, when the two Teyrns of Ostwick, bound in matrimony for almost a year, rode side by side, at the front of a mounted group of armored soldiers.  
Throught the busy streets of the rich city state, the crowd made way for their rulers to pass. Some inclined their heads in a light respectful bow, others whispered, still not used to the sight of their elven ruler. Dressed like a king, with a long moss green royally embroidered mantle down his back, his long fiery red hair reflecting the sunlight and teasing the wind as he rode, Osiris was a sight worthy of legend.

By his side, sculpted for nobility, Edmond Trevelyan, the son and rightful ruler of Ostwick, stood tall and proud on his mighty black warhorse. A wine coloured mantle framed his shoulders, but it was his air of absolute command and power that set him higher than any man in the city. Generations had come and go and still the Trevelyans ruled unquestioned. But now at the side of the tyrant stood an elf. Who would ever have guessed that a Trevelyan would marry so low?

At a small gesture of Teyrn Edmond’s hand, the mounted battalion came to a stop shortly after the entrance to the alienage, where the Lord Bann of the district was already waiting for them with a handful of guards of his own. A short, slightly round, man in his mid fifties, Bann Odo was a renown warrior and the head of a respected old family in Ostwick. He had served under Edmond’s command as Captain and up until the day the Teyrn announced his wedding to an elf, they had been in good terms.

“Welcome,” said Bann Odo, as he bowed low to Lord Edmond and avoided setting eyes on Osiris, “although I deeply regret the circumstances.”

“So why did you kill them?” Osiris asked without delay as soon as he stepped off his red hart, facing the noble straight in the eyes. The elf was taller, he wore richer clothes and his tone made it clear he demanded an answer.

Being responsible for the area where the alienage stood, the Bann was still unused to be spoken to, least of all questioned, by an elf; no matter how pampered and well dressed. But the pleased, almost proud, smile on Teyrn Edmond’s lips made it clear the elf was due an answer.

“There was a riot, we were forced to take up arms” the nobleman answered briskly, slightly lacking the proper respect, “Sire” he added as he saw Lord Trevelyan’s expression harden.

“And what caused the riot?” Edmond asked.

“Maker only knows, my Lord” the Bann answered, still unsure how to look upon his Lord’s choice of husband, but completely sure not to accept him as his ruler.

“Really? Do I need to send you to Him to ask why you killed my citizens?” Edmond replied, his voice calm but his yellow eyes shining  with a predator’s threat, as he gestured his guards to follow him into the alienage.

The armed company of humans and a dalish elf passed through the dusty narrow streets of poor and decrepit wooden houses with ease, as there was no one on sight. Not a single elf was outside or looking out of the glassless windows.  

“No, your Lordship” the nobleman answered as he speeded his steps to join his ruler at the head of the group, “they were unhappy, I’ve gathered, with their salaries.”

Edmond silently turned his gaze to Lord Odo and the Bann felt compelled to continue. “They wanted the same payment as humans, I believe.”

Noticing his husband’s quietness and his stern gaze, Edmond reached for Osiris, intertwining their fingers and softly caressing the back of the elf’s hand with his thumb. As a reflex, the elven teyrn gripped it tightly, seeking  reassurance  for what he was sure to witness. “Did I not pass a law stating that all citizens of Ostwick were to receive equal treatment, be them humans, elves, dwarves or qunari?” continued Edmond as they stopped at the entrance to a small square where a significant number of corpses laid abandoned, “They WERE due equal salaries.”

“Yes, my lord, but most of our people were not happy with the idea” the Bann protested undisturbed by the sight, “These things take time, maybe if…”

Edmond mentally rolled his eyes at “our people”,  for everyone in Ostwick was his and his husband’s people and vassals. As a master player of the Game, Edmond was well aware of the weight and power held by mere words. “Everyone in Ostwick is our people, Bann Odo, you’ll do well to remember that” he corrected.  Maybe such a choice of language wouldn’t have upset him so were he not in love with an elf. But even as Inquisitor, Osiris had been looked down upon and even ridiculed. Now in Ostwick, their domain, such a behaviour could never be tolerated and an insult on the elves as a whole, was an insult on Osiris as their ruler.

“Yes, Sire, what I meant was…”

“So some of my citizens were disobeying the law” Teyrn Edmond interrupted,  analyzing, with a painter’s attention, every detail of the slaughter in front of them. Only when he felt Osiris hand gently letting go of his, did Edmond averted his eyes. “And what did you do about it?”.

“Well, we tried to stop the riot without…”

“No” interrupted Edmond again, “the other citizens. The ones that did not obey my command in the first place. The ones who gave cause to this… riot.”

“Well, Sire…. as I’ve said these things take time and,” as Edmond expected the Bann was starting to get nervous, “ we can’t expect people to start paying elves as much as humans… I mean, why would they hire elves to begin with?”

Withdrawing from the two human nobles rhetoric battle, Osiris stepped carefully through the square paved with corpses. Every once in awhile he stopped and stared into a face, as if he wanted to make sure that person would not be forgotten. “Why are their bodies still here?” he asked with his back turned to them, “why didn’t their families came to take them?”

Bann Odo pretended not to hear the question, but Teyrn Edmond answered it for him “because the Lord Bann wanted to send a message for the elves of the alienage, my soul. Also, he wanted us to see he had reason to shoot them down. That he was upholding the law and not slaughtering citizens.”

Edmond finally turned his attention to the Bann. “So you had them killed for demanding the rights I’ve given them?”  

“No Sire, it was a riot!” Bann Odo answered immediately. There was panic rising in his voice even though the nobleman tried to hide it under a tone of outrage. He pointed to the bodies laying scattered on the street, some of which still held swords in their hands. “They were armed! They attacked the shop owners. I asked them to lay down their weapons peacefully and they attacked my guards.”

“Liar!!” came a young voice from behind an abandoned cart before a little boy stepped  out of nowhere. He was an elven child, not older than 5 or 6, badly dressed and barefoot, with slightly long ginger hair.  He had his hands closed into fists and was staring angrily at Bann Odo. “You’re a liar” the boy repeated.

“Why, you little…” started the Bann and his guards advanced towards the child, Osiris immediately turned to face them, stepping in their path. He took his right hand to the Trevelyan relic sword on his waist and his eyes shone with a silent challenge.

“Be quiet!” Edmond commanded and, at his word, his own guards, in perfect unison, took a step forward, “and all of you stand down. Lest you want us to assume you are advancing against your Teyrn.” He studied the little boy for a few seconds before approaching him.  His big hazel eyes that had widened with anger when he confronted the Bann, were now narrowing with fear as he saw a large human, a large “shem”, richly dress, armed and surrounded by guards, coming towards him.

The child took a step back and tripped over a body. The boy’s face lost all colour when he looked down at the the pale blank eyed face of an elven woman with the same ginger hair.  

“That’s your mother…” Edmond wanted to say, but the words were crushed in his throat before reaching his lips. An unfamiliar cold feeling swept over the human lord as the blank, lifeless, hazel eyes of that woman sucked all the air from his lungs. He felt momentarily afraid. All the world stood still and Edmond was being slowing pulled into a void. There was nothing around him, nothing he could hold to, only the dead yellow eyes of a mother staring lifelessly to her son.

Osiris reacted immediately as if he had listened to his husband’s silent words. “I’ll go find the alienage elder,” the elf said as he turned towards the boy blocking his view from the corpse. Osiris spoke to the boy in a low, soothing tone, which Edmond couldn’t quite hear, but the boy seemed to calm, wrapping his thin arms around the bigger elf’s neck. Osiris picked the boy up and looked back towards his husband before walking away, with his eyes questioning, perhaps sensing something unusual in Edmond’s demeanor.

The human Lord took a few seconds to regain his focus. Some muffled sound was screaming in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t understand the words. He felt his anger growing, his blood boiling and filling the cold emptiness that he had sank into. “It appears we have a witness” Edmond said when his voice returned.

“Hardly, the little brat is lying, my Lord” started the Bann bringing Edmond back from his thoughts, “children are not very reliable witnesses. And… well, he is an elf, of course his tale will be biased.”

“Then maybe YOU can tell me why elves who can afford weapons as good as any soldier needed to protest their payment”.

The Bann seemed taken back. “They probably stole it, Sire” he stammered.

“You killed the protesters, armed the corpses and called it a riot!”  This was the heart of the matter, a protest, not a riot.

“My Lord, I would never…”

“Don’t lie to me”” Edmond growled, his hatred for the man rising, unleashed and empowered, at each word. “Do you take me for a fool?”  He was well aware of the weight of such an accusation, as well as the lack of evidence, the influence of Bann Odo’s family and his own growing reputation of favouring elves. But in that moment, his usual cold and rational judgement was clouded by an untamed wrath fuelled by the dead yellow eyes fixed upon him.

“On your knees!”, Edmond commanded and Bann Odo’s jaw dropped in shocked understanding of his sentence.

“Sire, I …”

“Bann Odo” Edmond started. This was not the place. Odo’s status and birth demanded a respectful execution, after a trial, away from a dusty street piled with corpses. Still, the Lord of Ostwick, like his ancestors before him, unsheathed his sword and applied the justice as he saw fit. “You are accused of crimes against the people of Ostwick, of murdering citizens motivated only by your own hatred and lying to your Liege Lord. I sentence you to die.” Edmond paused and felt a growing satisfaction in the man’s fear, “any last words?”

“My Lord, please…” be begged, as two of his guards forced him down.

“Bow your head, Odo” Edmond commanded, “and show some dignity”. With a swift precise blow, Lord Edmond cut Bann Odo’s head. His body fell to the ground, next to the rest of the corpses, and his head rolled next to the elven woman.

“Tell Bann Odo’s son he has just been promoted”, Edmond told his guard as he wiped his sword. The sound of his own voice made Edmond freeze. He sounded older, his voice lower and more cruel. He sounded like his father.

He turned once again to the dead elven woman by the cart. He kneeled next to her body, staining his pants with blood and dust, and he gently closed her eyes. Hazel, not yellow. “I’m sorry”, Edmond whispered.

 

* * *

 

**The Grand Tourney**  - Part 1 (written by Sluah)

The day was sunny and warm, as perfect as it should be. A soothing breeze graced the feast, giving life to the several banners proudly making their stand and bringing from all corners of the fair the sound of laughter and music. Serah Hughes, as any proud Marcher, held the Grand Tourney as the most important celebration in Thedas, even if his only contribution was a stand of sweets.

People from everywhere in Thedas, of every race and background, flocked to the Grand Tourney to witness a display of skill and valor unlike any other. Also commerce flowed there like in no other place, merchants from distant countries brought their best goods to show their land’s riches and strike bargains. Hughes, as his grandfather before him, made sure he sold the best sweets in Thedas. _Let those Orlesians taste this and cry in shame_ , he told himself, with his Marchen patriotism rising.

This year, the excitement on everyone’s lips was the news that the Lord Teyrn of Ostwick himself had signed up for the Tourney, as had the Lord Chancellor of Tantervale. Hughes was sure it would be a match to remember, as people still talked about the last time the two of them crossed blades more than 15 years ago. Already soldiers and civilians from Ostwick and Tantervale had spent the day brawling and insulting each other. Such was the Grand Tourney, such was the Free Marches and Serah Hughes was damn proud of be a part of it.

“Er… hello?”, a child’s voice called him out from his thoughts. The rehearsed smile Hughes usually greeted his customers with, died on his lips as he gazed upon the new arrival. A rather small young boy was almost completely hidden behind the stand of sweets, Hughes could only see his hazel eyes, ginger hair and pointy ears. An elven child, not a customer.

“I want four of those”, the little boy stretched his small arm as soon as the stand owner turned his attention to him, no doubt tip toeing to point the bar of chocolate he wanted.

“That is 10 copper coins each!!”

“I want four”, he repeated again. “Please”, he added as if that was what was missing and preventing Hughes from giving him the chocolate.

“You can’t pay for that!”

The boy looked down, clearly searching for something, and then stretched his little arm again. He was holding a coin this time. A gold coin.

Hugh’s eyes widened. “Where did you steal that, boy?!“. He should call the guards and report the little thief, Maker only knew who he had stolen from.

“My daddy gave it to me” the child answered in a rather offended tone. “He said I could buy whatever I wanted.”

“And where did your father get a gold coin, hum?”

“From his pocket”, the boy immediately answered, insolently in Hughes opinion. “He was going to give me three coins, but babae said one was more than enough for a boy my age.”

The merchant was about to look over the stand and tell the little elf to go away, when two richly dressed figures approached. Only a mere glimpse of their attire was enough to make Hughes bow low. “Shoo… go away now and I won’t call the guards”, he told the child.

“What is taking so long?”, a deep strong voice asked.

“I’m buying candy”, the elf answered. “I want four of those over there.”

Hughes was about to scold the elven child for talking in the presence of his betters, but to his surprise the other nobleman asked “Four? Isn’t one enough?”

He raised his eyes and his jaw dropped. Standing beside the boy he could barely see  was the unmistakable figure of Teyrn Trevelyan, Lord of Ostwick, with his long black hair falling loose over a dark silvery embroidered cloak. Next to him, holding hands with the Lord Teyrn, his elven husband. Red hair, bright green eyes and savage facial marks but dressed as a king.

“No”, the boy said looking at the tall elven lord. He raised one finger and said “one for me”, he raised a second finger and added “one for you”, then a third one “one for daddy” and a fourth “and one for Lenore when she gets back”.

Lord Trevelyan laughed and picked up the boy. Now that Hughes could see him, there was no doubt the child was dressed and groomed as someone who could carry around gold coins to buy candy.

The lord of Ostwick finally turned his attention to Hughes.  “So, where are the sweets my son bought?” he asked with unconcealed superiority.

“Of course, your Lordship! Right away!” Hughes picked up a blue clothing bag with the Grand Tourney symbol painted upon and filled it with all types of sweets, including, of course, several of those the young Lord wanted. “A gift, my little Lord” the merchant said as he presented the bag to the child.

“Thank you”, Lord Trevelyan said absent minded as he turned to leave, carrying his son in one arm and holding his husband’s hand with the other. Such a posture and charisma! A true champion! No doubt Hughes had made the right choice in betting on the Lord of Ostwick and not on the ruler of Tantervale.

* * *

 

**The Grand Tourney**   - Part 2 (written by Sluah)

The low, but fast, sound of Squire Sam’s foot tapping anxiously on the straw covered floor was muffled by the enthusiastic cheers and loud music coming from all around the arena outside the competitors’ tent.

The stage was set for the moment of glory about to happen, already jugglers and performers were finishing their act and soon the crowd would be demanding the beginning of the main event, the Grand tourney itself.

Amongst the highborn lords in the balconies and in the midst of the common folk in the lower seats, insults that would have led to bloodshed were thrown at random, yet none of it was taken seriously. Someone did something to someone else’s mother; some cousin mated with a nug. Every offense was greeted with cheers and whistles as the crowd kept itself busy and on edge, waiting for the match that would put Thedas to the test. Everyone had already picked their favourite and  now they waited to celebrate their triumphs or to cry their downfalls. It was the same every time.

“A bit tighter, my soul,” the Lord of Ostwick asked calmly, like he had all the time in the world. Despite the difficulty of performing  such a task with just one hand, the elven Lord of the Free Marches, Osiris Trevelyan, had volunteered, or rather informed, he would tie his husband’s armor himself.

That last gauntlet, however, was turning out quite more challenging than expected. But still Teyrn Edmond and Lord Osiris exchanged amused, enamored smiles and completely ignored the distressed young man who couldn’t prevent his hands from rubbing nervously together as another burst of laughter and applause erupted around the tent.

Sam was sure that as one of the Lords of the Free Marches, the man had never been hurried his whole life, and maybe even the Grand Tourney would wait for him. But as a mere Squire, he, of course, could not wait. If the ruler of Ostwick, one of the most awaited competitors, was not properly dressed and riding into the list field as the bell rang it would be on Sam’s head. “Maybe I can lend a hand, Your Lordship?”, the young man ventured.

The colour of his flustered cheeks disappeared immediately, as poor Sam found himself under the angry wolfish gaze of the Lord of Ostwick. “I…. I meant….” he stammered, noticing his poor choice of words, “I only meant that maybe two people could dress your Lordship faster”.

“I know what you meant,” Teyrn Edmond growled coldly after a few long seconds, as Lord Osiris gave the squire a dismissive chuckle and continued slowly fastening the armor. “Go check if the horse is ready,” the High Lord commanded. Sam thanked Andraste for his good fortune since he had heard of even the death sentences being carried out for ones who had remarked ill on Lord Osiris’ missing arm, be it by mistake or not.

“Ready!!”, yelled the over enthusiastic voice of Ostwick’s small elven heir holding the reins of his father’s majestic warhorse. Of course the horse was ready, Sam had saddled him, brushed his black coat and hair. Everything was ready! Except for the Teyrn Trevelyan himself!

“Argh, hold this, ma’fen”, Lord Osiris exhaled, finally accepting that belt couldn’t be tied without aid. His husband smiled teasingly and did as he asked, while both Lords exchanged a knowing look that made they them hold their laughter. Squire Sam wouldn’t venture imaging what could be funny at such a stressful time like this, instead he held his breath, and wondered how much longer could this take. “Alright” said Teyrn Osiris, “you’re ready”.

Finally! Praise the Maker!

“Almost.” the already fully armored Lord said as he caress the elf’s cheek with his gauntleted hand, “ I need a token for good luck.”

“What?! No way”, the elven Teyrn answered as his cheeks flustered slightly, “I’m no maiden!”

Sam would have rolled his eyes at the couple if he dared such an affront. Instead, as he valued his life, he stared at the floor and to his own feet.  Anyone could see that small smile growing in the corner of Teyrn Osiris’ lips, so could he please just give the Lord of Ostwick something? Anything! Andraste help him preserve his job and sit Teyrn Trevelyan on the horse before he was called to the Tiltyard.

“You’ll regret denying me that if I’m thrown off my horse. I haven’t jousted in years,” the human noble teased inclining his head slightly.

“So does that mean the Chancellor has the upper hand on this match?” a female voice coming from the tent’s entrance asked. Oh no, another delay. But as he turned his gaze to the new arrival, Sam couldn’t prevent a silly youthful smile spreading across his face. The lady who had just entered the tent, was slightly younger than he was, wearing a stunning black and wine dress, with her hair braided rather complicatedly with several silver threads.

“No, not really,” Lord Trevelyan answered smiling at her, “ I’m sure I’m the better warrior. You don’t have to worry.”

“Oh, but I do,” the lady said, “I’ve bet 30 gold coins on him.” Sam wanted to laugh at her jokes or at her cheekiness, but even during the Grand Tourney’s free spirits that would have been improper and probably unsafe. She seemed completely out of his world, not to mention rather oblivious to his existence.

“Of course you did”, Teyrn Edmond laughed casually at his daughter. Maybe too casually, if Sam was allowed a silent opinion.

“You bet against your own father?” Lord Osiris asked and his brows tensed slightly.

“Yes. So?”

“Then, you’re going to lose!!”, the elven Lord challenged,  “30 gold coins, you said? I wager 60 as to your father winning in the second round!”

The young Lady laughed. “Oh Maker, love makes us do the silliest things!”

“As does childish defiance, kid. Someone ought to teach you a lesson or two!” Lord Osiris answered as a smile returned to his lips.

“We shall see, won’t we, step-daddy? I just came to see why you were all taking so long. Come on, Elladan, let’s go demand the best seats.”

“No! I wanna see daddy get on his horse” the elven prince, Elladan, said and Sam bit his tongue not to agree.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, ma’fen”, Lord Osiris said as soon as the high born lady left. He pulled his regal fabric scarf from his neck and placed it around Lord Edmond’s. “Here, for luck”.

“Yes, she did,” Teyrn Edmond smiled as he tucked his token inside his breast plate. “Wish me luck too,” he said as he winked at his grinning little son.

The bell rang and a loud clamorous cheer summoned the competitors. Teyrn Edmond pulled Lord Osiris close and claimed his lips passionately. Please make it a quick peck, Sam begged. But no, their arms wrapped around each other, their eyes closed and Sam could swear he was seeing a bit too much tongue.

All was lost. The other participant would be riding glamorously to the list by now, but that kiss was never ending.

Then suddenly, as sent by Andraste herself, help came. “You. can. DO. THAT. LATER.”, young Lord Elladan said as he pushed his daddy’s back, away from his other daddy and on to his horse.

 


	13. AU stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some prompts and stories that are not canon.

**Heart and Soul** (written by Sluah)

Lord Edmond Trevelyan sat at the desk, in his palace like manor at Ostwick, reading a letter from his daughter. Edmond smiled as he read on, for Lenore’s enthusiasm was almost palpable. The young lady had already made several friends in the College of Enchanters and had went on long quests through Val Royeux finest shops. He needed to send her more money, it seemed.

His peaceful moment was soon broken, as Lord Tristan Trevelyan, Teryn of Ostwick, slammed the door open. “Leave, now!”, he ordered his brother’s guards that came rushing in behind him.

Edmond lifted his eyes from the letter and he looked at his brother. “My Lord, to what do I owe the visit?”. His words were calm and paused, showing the proper respect for his Liege Lord, but his eyes were studying the Teryn suspiciously.

“Did I hear correctly?!, the Teryn asked with the same aggressive tone that made him slam the door.

“Forgive me”, answered Edmond in his usual calm demeanour, “but you will have to be more specific than that.”

“Did you ask your crippled knife ear pet to marry you?”, the Teryn demanded.

Edmond’s eyes flared at “crippled” and were already murderous when his brother reached “pet”, but he replied in a low, studied voice, that far from showing respect was stepping dangerously in to insubordination. “As always my Lord is extremely well informed, for I have only proposed privately this morning.” The General paused and looked into his brother’s brown eyes, standing his ground like a wolf measuring another predator, “Osiris was too startled at my proposal, he did not give me an answer yet.”

“Have you no shame?!”, spat the Teryn, his voice rising, “Have you lost all your honour?!”. He was beyond furious. “You lay with an elf! A male elf!! And you bring him into my lands, into your house!! You have him sited at our table, talking to our guests! Walking the court!”

“You do realize we are talking about the Herald of Andraste and former Inquisitor?”, said Edmond, crossing his arms across his chest, but maintaining his fierce gaze, “About a year ago everyone was queuing to kiss his hand”.

“The Inquisition his over! He is just a knife ear savage you force upon us! The whole court laughs at your back. At my back! On Ostwick! And now my own brother, my Heir, is planning to marry that creature?! You disgust me!”

“By now, the feeling is quite mutual, I assure you!”. Edmond said coldly stepping in and closing the distance between himself and his brother. “But this is your land. As such, Osiris and I will be gone before nightfall!”

“And the Teryn’s brother, my brother, ran away with his rabbit lover?! No!”

As Edmond turned his back and prepared to leave, the Teryn continued, “You are guilty of crimes against your bloodline, against your status, against your Teryn and against Ostwick”.

“You can’t be serious!”, Edmond gasped, turning to his brother again.

“Men!”, the Lord of Ostwick yelled and two of his personal guards entered the room immediately. “Arrest my brother and slay the elf”.

Edmond pulled out his sword and said in a very low voice that vibrated in the promise of blood, “Put your weapons to the ground and get out of my way.” He didn’t bother to give them time to think, he had to get to Osiris fast.

One of the guards foolishly disregarded the warning and stepped in the warrior’s path. He was killed with one precise strike and Edmond didn’t even slowed his step, he was out in the corridor before the soldier hit the ground.

“Guards!!” came the Teryn’s cry.

Edmond run as fast as he could, cutting down anyone who crossed his way. Where could Osiris be? The Teryn’s personal guard was sure to regroup soon. And he doubted Osiris could stand against a trained soldier, he was still relearning how to fight with just one hand.

He heard battle sounds from one of the rooms and rushed in. Osiris was fighting one guard and seemed to be dealing with it better than Edmond had anticipated, but he still was far from levelled  with the soldier. The elf kept placing his feet like they had to weight the balance of a two handed sword, and moving part of his left arm like he was going to hold the grip.

Edmond trusted his sword deep into the man’s back and locked the door.  

“We need to get out”, Edmond looked through the window. It wasn’t too high to jump, but the rest of the Teryn’s personal guard were circling the house.

“Edmond, what’s going on?”, Osiris asked looking from the small army outside to his lover’s worried face. The former Inquisitor knew him well enough by now to recognise Edmond’s gaze when he was planning all possible routes and outcomes for a situation.

He took sometime before answering, but finally said “The Teryn doesn’t give us his blessing” and he told Osiris everything that happened just minutes ago in his study.

“So this is all because of me?”, Osiris asked, guilt stricken. He should never have agreed to come to Ostwick. He should have known this was not going to work.

“No, my soul, this is all because of them”. Edmond answered as approach the door to listen for footsteps. Even though this was Edmond’s usual way to refer to Osiris now, the elf still wasn’t used to the sound and, specially, the meaning.

“This is going to be difficult. Ready?”, Edmond asked.

“Are you?”, Osiris replied. Edmond pulled him close and kissed him gently on the lips. But there was something in this kiss that felt different, almost bitter. For a second it tasted like goodbye, but Osiris forced himself to dismissed the thought. “Please be careful, ma vhenan”, he whispered, calling him such for the first time.

Edmond smiled “what does that mean?”

“My heart”, Osiris replied before the their lips found each other again in a deep, passionate kiss. Their last one.

Edmond opened the door and both warriors got out, slashing their way. Edmond kept close to Osiris, trying to fight most of the guards and protect his lover at the same time, but the vast number of the teryn’s forces made it impossible for him to keep aiding Osiris and soon the elf was disarmed.

Immediately, before they killed Osiris, Edmond shouted “We surrender. Take us to the Teryn”. He opened his arms, showing he meant to stand down, but he did not drop his sword.

“Why is the elf still alive?”, Tristan Trevelyan asked as his guards brought in Edmond and Osiris.

“Because you do not want an Exalted March on Ostwick!”, replied Edmond. “The Divine is his personal friend, she was with the Inquisition. How do you think she will react when she heard you had the herald of Andraste killed?”

“His Inquisition is gone”, answered the Teryn, but he was slightly less confident.

“Yes, but he is still the Herald. And the Divine will still wipe out Ostwick”. Edmond studied his brother’s hesitation, “Besides, your problem is not with him. It’s with me.” he said as he approach his brother with his sword still at hand. Practically all blades turned to him now.

“You’re right, it is. He’s just a knife ear, you are a Trevelyan!”, agreed the Teryn, “Now drop you weapon to the ground and surrender”.

“I will. As soon as you agree on your honour as Leader of Ostwick, in front of your men, that you will let Osiris go unharmed and allow him to leave Ostwick safely and that you will not have him followed”.

“Edmond.. "Osiris started, still with several swords pointed. He was starting to realise how this was going to end.

"Fine, agreed”, said the Teryn impatiently. “Now drop your weapon!”

“Swear to it”.

“I swear”, said the Teryn “that I will allow that filthy mongrel to leave my lands unharmed if you surrender now”.

Edmond smiled and threw his weapon to the floor.

The Teryn approached his brother, with a triumphant look in his eyes. He picked up his sword and buried it in Edmond stomach.

Osiris screamed and tried to reach them, as Edmond fell on his knees, but was easily restrained by the several guards. Edmond turned his already clouded eyes to Osiris and tried to say something, but even though his lips moved they produced no sound. Then he fell heavily on the ground and his blood started painting the white marble floor.

“Throw the elf into the street” Tristan ordered. Then he turned to a close to frenzy Osiris. “You have until nightfall to leave Ostwick, after that we will hang you on the nearest tree”.

The former Inquisitor was dragged and violently thrown out; and even though he launched himself at the manor’s door, punching and screaming, the guards waiting outside pretended he did not exist and no one opened the door.

In the next few days, the army loyal to Lord Edmond, who had followed him to the Inquisition, took up arms against the forces loyal to the Teryn and the first civil war in Ostwick began.

 

* * *

 

**Heart and Soul - continued**  (written by Slugette)

Something like this only happened in dreams, but this day, Osiris found himself running, dragging his tired feet that no longer obeyed his command. 

After the death of Lord Edmond Trevelyan, They had declared the former inquisitor, who had been his pet knife ear, to be the one responsible. They had hunted him, and he had run, and he had been running ever since.

Edmond…

The name was his reminder. To live, or so he believed what his late lovers wish would have been. It had been a few weeks already, but they were persistent, to avenge their lord’s death. This day, they almost succeeded too.

Edmond…

Osiris stopped to catch his breath, and applied extra pressure on the wound on his side. The blood still oozed through the makeshift bandage, and he knew he didn’t have much time before he bled out. But he had to go on. He was so close.

Edmond..

“I am finally with you again, “ said the elf sagging in front of the large tombstone. It was severe and elegant, just like the man had been. Osiris closed his eyes, as the blackness started to close in. He started singing, but the death claimed him before he could finish.

hahren na melana sahlin ( elder your time is come )  
emma ir abelas  ( now I am filled with sorrow )  
souver'inan isala hamin ( weary eyes need resting )  
vhenan him dor'felas ( heart has become grey and slow )  
in uthenera na revas ( in waking sleep is freedom )  
  
vir sulahn'nehn ( we sing, rejoice )  
vir dirthera ( we tell the tale )  
vir samahl la numin ( we laugh and cry )  
vir lath sa'vunin ( we love one more day )

 

* * *

 

**Death** (written by Slugette)

The battle raged on, quite literally for Osiris. The song of dragon blood filled the world in the red haze. The rage in him became larger than himself, blinding him with the incredible power. 

Hunger for blood filled him, and the rage became something akin to ecstasy. His body moved in its own accord, the heavy blade dancing impossibly fast through flesh and bones alike.  

Osiris cared little for the blades that came in the way. His body was raked with cuts and bruises, but the pain fueled the huger even more.

He roared as a shield blocked his way, a slender blade of a long sword making him jump back before making another swing. Even through the haze of pain and rage, his mind recognised the familiar pattern on the shield. 

“Stop!” it screamed, but it felt like trying to shout underwater. His body kept doing its deadly dance with the blade.  The shield almost broke under the strain, but held fast. 

“Osiris! Stop! NOW!” another shout, not his own mind, but someone else, familiar, someone very important. He hesitated, trying to think of who it is, his blade slowing.  At that moment, the hilt of the long sword struck his forehead, knocking him back.

Osiris lied there, panting, as the red haze in the vision cleared. In a heartbeat, he remembered whose voice it was. He stood, slowly and with great difficulty, now that his body lost all its fight.  He almost lost his balance, and saw him still standing with a shield up. Edmond.

Other members of the party stood a few meters back, not daring to come close, something close to haunted look in their faces. Osiris took a couple of steps towards Edmond. Something wasn’t right the way he was leaning heavily onto his sword.  

As Osiris made another step towards the warrior, his shield dropped, filling the quiet battlefield with the sound of metal hitting the ground. Then, Edmond fell heavily on his knees, dropping his sword. Osiris caught the man into his arm. His face was as pale as death itself, and the elf saw the red soaking the front of his armor. 

“Help! He’s wounded! Call the healer!” Osiris shouted.

“Good..  you’re back.” Edmond whispered, with his face contorted in pain.

“I.. I did this.. Why? Why didn’t you put a blade through me?” Osiris said through clenched teeth. He knew Edmond’s long sword could have easily cut through his neck rather than just blocking his blade aside. 

“Be.. because, I couldn’t lose you.” Edmond whispered, his voice barely audible, between his shallow breathing. 

“You bastard! You.. think I could? How could you!” Osiris wailed and shouted, “how.. how could you do this! No! Don’t you leave me, you hear?”

Edmond lifted his shaking hand and cupped Osiris’ cheek, his thumb tracing the lower lip of the elf. Osiris just stared his lover through his wide tear soaked eyes, and he held onto the cold hand that cupped his face. 

“I am sorry.. I am sorry. I love you.” Osiris whispered, but the dead man didn’t answer back.       


End file.
